Learning to Listen (for Faruq)

"Listen to the reed
and how it tells a tale,
complaining of separation"
—from Mathnawi by Rumi
translated by Faruq Z. Bey (1942—2012)

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With dusk descending on Marcus Garvey Park
suffused w/ the tones and stones of Harlem
surrounded suddenly from within
by your music

Having heard the news just before boarding a plane
Having heard the news that your sax was in its case
the case closed and latched
Having heard
the news

Shoulders of buildings rise to meet the song
I hear it in the yowls & laughter of playground children
I hear it in the poetry of evening birds
unseen in every tree

We are a million fragmented souls
separated from Source
but the reed calls out for reunion

The truth that I squeeze in my hand
and thrust into a pocket
is that I'll never again hear you play—
the vibration emanating directly from your breath
through your horn & the prismatic air
to my ear, a nest of tongues that imitate each wave

And the question:
Have I yet learned to really listen?

or have I been letting sounds
merely bounce off my surfaces
like an ice-bound lake
like a window shuttered against the light
like a drum head without its resonating tree-body
that's needed to take the sound deep
to tell the story to itself again & again & again
until, shattering the container of self,
echoes it into the world?

Listen: