The compassion of the Shaikh
is the physician to our pain
He is a cool mist on desert sand
He is the rain upon on our skin
Below which seeds of hope give sprout
as his love seeps deep within.
He is the well of Gods water –
The dervish is the pail,
whose spirit turns the hand pulley
winding up the rope of the human veil.
We are drawn to look over the teacher’s edge
should her loving gaze ever be forgotten,
And behold down in the water well
Our own reflection at its bottom.
