The goldsmith's daughter

- After Rumi


The goldsmith's daughter, dearly loved,
Did not love herself.

But one man failed to love her
And she, marveling and relieved, loved him.

She went to his door
And knocked. He was brewing tea
And she was jealous that it might burn his lips
Where she wished to sear herself.

He said,
"Who's at the door?"
She said,
"I can no longer see my face, please look for yourself"

He said,
"My door is no mirror, and it has no peep-hole"
She had seen enough of mirrors, wanted no more of peep-holes.
She said,
"I am a girl"

He said
"what do you want?"
She said
"To be whole"

"What do you bring?"
"My loss"

"What have you lost?"
"This that you see."

He said,
"Such claims require a witness"
She said
"This longing, these tears"

He said
"Credible witnesses"
She pointed out
"I am still crying"

He laughed
"Who puts the tears in your eyes?"
She said
"The same who draws them out again"

How to clean the eyes? Fill them up.
How to cure the self? Send me back to you.