I have offered asylum.
You have come and left and come.

To be a sanctuary, I must oil the hinges
and shake out the doormats
on a regular basis, gather sustenance
for all who arrive, and offer tea.

I read Rumi aloud.
“I could not have known
what love is if I had never
felt this longing.”
Those who hear stay longer,
serve food to the exiled.

A stream, an inundation
from the media our family some church
which tells us
of a child’s worth a woman’s worth
a black man’s worth an Islam’s worth
a house cleaner’s worth a doctor’s worth
an addict’s worth a gay man’s worth
a mother’s worth a virgin’s worth
a person-who’s-identity-is-not-listed-here’s worth
Who can blame us for not knowing
how to breathe?

I have offered asylum.
I am you or god or the universe.
I, too, am inundated.
I have come and left and come.

I read Rumi aloud.
“The purpose of
every gathering is discovered:
to recognize beauty and love
what’s beautiful.”

Without your searching
I would be alone.