Perhaps it is your sin
That will be your key to the garden.
Perhaps your sigh of regret
Is worth more than all of your prayers.
Perhaps infinite joy is the result
Of your tears of sadness alone and in darkness.
Perhaps all your pleasure has grown out
Of the seed planted by longing and pain.
Perhaps looking down on another
Is your fall to the lowest of low.
Like the prostitute who used her shoe as a bowl
For a thirsting dog to drink water,
Perhaps an act, insignificant in your eyes,
Will mean everything to the Lord of the Worlds.
by Baraka Blue
an untitled poem for Ramadan by Baraka Blue - I Eat Poetry