95 Words: Thou art even as a finely tempered sword

95 Words is a project where poets write short works inspired by readings of the Baha’i writings.

 

O My servant! Thou art even as a finely tempered sword concealed in the darkness of its sheath and its value hidden from the artificer’s knowledge. Wherefore come forth from the sheath of self and desire that thy worth may be made resplendent and manifest unto all the world. – Baha’u’llah, The Hidden Words, p. 47

 

Intended.

I am wondering why the tie of love was so abruptly severed
Why I was rejected and not beloved to you –
Was I not well-pleasing?

I am wondering if you forgot, if you couldn’t see –
Was the darkness too strong?

In bearing witness to my secrets thoughts,
I confess that I must again kill all four birds of prey –
So that mercy will prevail over vengeance

If I could only purge myself of the hypocrisy,
Mine and yours –
If I could only find the light

But such light is not possessed by the full moon

– Lindsay McComb, 96 words + title

 

Despite the parable you wish that what you touch turns golden

but it is already
even the sun, egg cracked on the horizon,
even the glowing warmth of the radiator,
groaning under the weight
of how many winters.

Just try to touch them,
see what happens.

Remember the night of the campfire
when your arms lit up with gold?
Either you fed the flames and something
or else it hopped the grate,
and tried to melt you
like unworked metal.

Remind me,
what ever came of that?
Are your limbs scarred or healed, I’ve forgotten.

– Caitlin Johnson Castelaz, 95 words

 

This Blade Is a Human Is a Heart Made New

The legend tells of a king
who received his weapon
from a woman submerged
in a shining lake…

Human, it is time.
To put your hand on your heart
and draw out the hidden sword.

How many years have you housed it?
The blade prying you apart,
praying you back together again.

Human, it is time.
To pull yourself out of the water
and stand dripping and resplendent
with your own sword
in your own hand.

Dear, dear heart,
I must shield my eyes.
Are you being unsheathed?
Or are you being reforged?

-Andréana Lefton, 93 words + title