A TIN CUP LENT

I'm reading Hafiz and stop at this line: "Stay close to any sounds that make you glad you are alive." (254, The Gift).  I write in my journal:  Birds singing, kids playing outside, rain on a tin roof.

Then I read a poem by Palestinian poet Masab Abu Toha in CAC's Daily Mediation for Ash Wednesday.  The poem is called Sobbing Without Sound: SeeUniversal Sadness — Center for Action and Contemplation.  I'm right there with the poet-- his poem a cross on my forehead as Lent begins.

Next, I respond to Masab's poem with one of my own.

Poets are connected to each other.
Meeting up on our oceans of grief,
and deserts of longing--
We can break at a little.
We can break at a lot.
Ah, but when we bend,
"the so called 'tin cry'
can be heard.
Cb
Amen

I want Masab to know that the sound of the silent sobbing he writes about, is heard like big tin sheets being struck within me and others.

I'm thinking of the Hafiz quote I used at the beginning of this post: "Stay close to any sounds that make you glad you are alive."  Tonight those sounds are my cat snoring beside me, and the sound of someone's windchimes out in the night.

I think it's going to be a tin cup Lent.

But I don't know what that means?

Cb
Amen
'Tin Cry' Source:Wikipedia

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