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Karen Lynn Sterkin 2001 © Karen Lynn Sterkin |
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Black Hole
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September 15, 2001 O God, they’ve blown a black hole in Your creation, When we’re all One – how can anyone kill His own Being? Now where have they gone? How to comfort them in this Night without Song. They wage war whenever God-man comes rather than yield. Forced both Krishna and Mohammed onto the battlefield. Stubborn men who won’t surrender Find Love cannot be stormed by violence Rather than bow at His Lotus feet, sweet innocence They kill themselves and others in hate. I am weeping alone – for terrorists who’ll repent too late. They’ve blown a hole in Your creation, World Trade is a burial ruin in my nation. We invited those here for freedom Like children rivals for a better song We played, battled, like cubs in a lair, But not with Jihad demons of despair. Why start a holy war for Armageddon ‘Cause no one listens to your Song? Those who build golden calves and Camelots Dot coms with stocks, politics now called patriots Clamouring for yet another World’s End? O God, they’ve blown a hole in Your creation They’ve buried innocents in my nation. Where we’re all One under Beloved’s Sun How can anyone kill another in God’s Ocean? Where have they all gone? – Firefighters – father & son? Lovers, daughters, of liberty nation. No comfort in this Night without Song. God gave him an inheritance of $300 million Amd he rains curses and sorrow on everyone! His Muslim brothers hide their eyes in shame God-man came again but with a different name. Each time He’s the same, but with a different name. Whatever hope for World Peace Did we lose it with this sacrifice? Whatever prayers for World Peace For the New Humanity of God’s Grace For us whom God-man made His sacrifice. Is it shattered forever from our dream? Or is this just the Night before our Souls’ awakening? We are all One in His creation; Saint or sinner, loser or winner. Beloved they’ve blown a hole in Your creation Like tearing a sacred painting in my home I am weeping, I am restless, grieving in sadness. Is every black hole in outer space, Where not even a photon of Light can escape, Paradise Lost where some fiend blew up such a place? Have we offended You, Master of all Grace? Now Americans blow up the poorest land of all Afghanistani refugees starving – what disgrace! And in every one, I see Your darling Face. Meher have You left me here alone? In this nightmare without God-man? In this madness and sorrow Where can we find comfort now? Those I sing with and laugh Tho’ once, laughter and rivals for a song, I hug them now in my heart all day long. For last week lying dead in my path I found the sweet, white cooing dove Message of Love from above That the time of peace is gone? The father has no time to teach his son. Music or war – all is in Your hand O Saki. My only hope whether in prayer or in bazaar, Beloved, is that your loving Nazaar Remains on me - no matter my destiny. O Saki! Karen weeps "Keep me with You, Meher." |
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Perfect Mother
Dialogue with Baba in India - October 24, 1986 O Meher, I’ve heard tales of so many of your lovers. Some build pilgrim centers and hospitals. Some work all the time, others serve or clean or cook. Some sing songs to your Brightness from our dark world. Others help the poor, with the latest technology and science. What am I doing here? O Karen, if I did not call you, you’d not have come here. Don’t listen to these thoughts of your mind. My lovers are really great, but I don’t need anyone to do My work. O Karen, are you afraid to commit yourself? You’ll have to travel the Path anyway some day. Why not come now while I have called you? O Meher, am I truly ready? So many times I’ve fallen, great falls from high places, and I’m afraid. Like a babe once dropped from her mother’s arms. O Karen, I am the Perfect Mother and I’ll never fail you. |
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Single File
From O Beloved I’m Yours, 1986 Last night my dear the rain was fallin’ I went to bed so sad and blue I was thinkin’ I could not follow You I dreamed I was strolling in the evening underneath the harvest moon. I was thinking about you. Then we met out in the moonlight the stars were shining in your eyes. But (I saw that) another was there too. (1) There’s room for only One on Love’s Path, more narrow than a needle’s eye, I was too discouraged to reply Baba took my hand and told me, "We’ll just travel single file." I was still wondering how. (2) Your arm was resting on my shoulder, You smiled at me I smiled at you. Your eyes were shining filled with victory. "Let Me lead and just obey Me," and then my heart was filled with ease I knew that You would always stay with me. Your eyes were shining filled with victory I know that Meher will stay with me. |
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Meeting Again
India, 1972 I’d forgotten — so long ago I’ve been sleeping fitfully Lonely dark sorrow dreams Over the centuries In so many different costumes and bodies. I studied so many different arts And played the various parts Opposite sets, the unmerciful law Of my own actions. I went to meet you — curiously For I thought this was the first time! Not remembering this was again, Inside Your room at Meherazad, Inside Baba’s room. Mehera took your right arm As if she were rubbing away Your world weariness and earth pain As she’d done when you’re in the body. I felt embarrassed, what a silly game! There’s no one here. Lying there on Your bed Imagining Your back to me I started to massage Your left side and arm. Gingerly, I felt unworthy and afraid, You might really appear — be here! Mehera kept stroking You "Baba — Baba" I want to stroke Baba too! But I couldn’t see or feel You. "Baba! — it’s me, Karen, do you remember me?" So sweetly You slowly turned Your head to look my way So softly Your eyes — your look of Love Eternally (Eternity) Of meeting You again! |
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Money
From The New Humanity Collection O Money, you make so many enemies Even before careful consideration Slay more potential partners than Hercules Without a second’s deliberation. Wreak havoc among treasured true allies Turn brothers into despicable ill-will spies. The path narrows to a razor’d edge Cuts careless hearts that bleed, For Love thru greed or need. In a desert you cannot drink gold or coin Electronic banks don’t give bread or wine. Money’s a concept we all share For work or service offered at this faire. What’s wealth and prosperity? Self-esteem measured by how much? Rather than how well the Singer can touch Love, beauty and harmony? True abundance is the freedom and intent to sing one’s best to God – in joy In whatever form one’s led By passion, attraction, or glee. The discriminating seek refinement and delicacy The passionate want rhythm in the dance True wealth comes from God’s intimacy O Karen, seek His pleasure only in this Divine Romance. |
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Clothing Fine
Traditional Gaelic, 26 November 1982 Tagore tells us clothing fine Holds us back from Love Divine Keeps us from the blessed dust Wherein we sing your (blessed) praises best. Pride’s chicanery dressed me in shame And now longing to strip it in vain Fearful that love already came To reclaim me with His blessed Flame While yet unprepared at heart To give myself totally. I prayed to God to keep me wholly. True love never keeps anything apart. If I’m lucky and the face of destiny Turns the other way Perhaps He’ll clean me inside out With warm, fireside eyes. In turning to you joyfully I thought I heard you say, "The fancier they get the more’s the trouble — the farther apt to stray." And I scampered back into Your open loving arms Full of dust and dirt and shame But, oh Baba, Baba, happy once again! |
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Ready to Sing
From The New Humanity Collection, India, 3 December 1986 Oh Beloved, I’ve tried to obey, as You should be obeyed To Love and serve as You should be loved But I’ve failed. Ob Baba I have tried to discipline this little self That dominates my days on earth; What precious time left to run to You! And I’ve wailed. Oh God, I’ve tried to bed early Rise early and still I’m always late. Oh Meher I’ve tried good thoughts, Good words, good deeds and still I’m selfish and hate. O Beloved I’ve tried to give and still I can only take. Even when I sing Arti to You, I lapse and make mistake. But when I help a brother or jump up and dance, Then I can celebrate Your joyous romance. And when I see all friends as You – only One Being Only then am I really ready for Your singing. Wake up --- Wake Up -- Wake up Baba in me Only then am I really ready for Your singing. |
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Mug
From White Flowing Sadra, 1998 Let’em think I’m a mug, Quite a useful costume, Quiet room for a private hug, And Peace to weave a tune. Most can’t even hear if I’m singin’ in tune. They lack the robust ear an’ displined passion. Universal Laws like gravity ‘n karma Remain the same for every singer’s dharma. Fortune may smile on me awhile But with fame I’ll have no guile. Neither Mother Theresa nor Mussolini Can escape the laws of gravity; Or cause and effect (even) with fame. No matter the singer or musician, Both Sa and Sum remain the same; Coming to "sum" with the drum, Reaching in perfect pitch to every "Sa." I’d rather sleep with a thug, Than flattery from hypocrites who hate, Think they’re pious as a bloody saint. Harbor ill-will and no fun, So a girl has to hide in isolation. Not allow the contamination -- to breed. I say mug, my sister (Ilona) says "dweeb" Either way it’s a good disguise From the Master whose eyes Inspire Love Songs and bliss. I won’t let fame rob me of His kiss. In gardens buzzing in full bloom, Scents of jasmine an’ rose perfume Tipsy tots greet me eye to eye, Puppies, bunnies playing romp by. Fresh streams of unseen secrets make me giddy, Even in the city Harming no one -- loving everything. Enough to eat -- free time to sing. Fame plugs into soap operas, Fries circuits in dramas. Mind can only hold one thing at a time. And my job’s song-weaving in pretty rhyme. To entertain the Master of Song – all day long. I won’t let fame rob me of His hug, Let’em call me a useless ole mug! Enough to eat and free time to sing, Harming no one – (while) loving everything. I won’t let fame rob me of His hug, Let’em call me a useless ole mug! |
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Two Saris
From The New Humanity Collection She stands straight and proud Gleaming like a new fishing rod, A jug of water on her head, A child on one svelte hip, And a village song on her lip. God’s sister Mani says "Two saris," Looking at her nodding One’s for work in the fields The other’s for festivals or a wedding. So many shopping malls we have in the West But ladies can’t find anything to wear to look their best. On our daily commutes – do we still sing songs to God? At the well, long ago he tossed a stone and her jug broke Water splashing all over her bright gulabi sari Squeeling in protest she loudly scolded the bloke But secretly in her breast, her heart soared in ecstasy. The millet and sugar cane fields may hide a cobra But we eat cows in stress, Big Macs watching Oprah, With less nourishment, more danger and no joy. They arranged her marriage (later) to that same boy She fell in love with when she was only seven. Then he went to America for his education. But he came back to fetch her for his wife. She’d told no one she’d loved him all her life. And they brought to my country this bit of village life. Now he re-routes routers in the Information Age. With all of our websites and programming language We still can’t communicate; "we’re all natives here." From heart to heart and eye to eye is SO much faster, Than the fastest router, huge bandwidth, and a good webmaster. Does anyone remember computers were going to bring more leisure Instead of The Terminator and Darth Vadar’s nightmare? Where 90% on earth go to bed hungry and scared. How to let women choose not to have to give birth Over-population, pollution, keeping helpless animals encaged, To feed the unwanted children who grow up violent, wildly enraged. In this Kali Yuga Age of chaos and strife Can we import these "two saris" into our life? Make technology heart’s hand-maiden And bring down on earth the Garden of Eden? When I go on Pilgrimage to Meher’s samadhi I take my old clothes – I’m too tall for a sari And there’s no closet room for "things" up there. But I’ve more in common with village women Gossiping at the well – than my sisters here Nagging me all the time to go shopping with them. I hate noise, traffic, shopping, and commotion My soul longs for the peace of those days by the well In a bright cotton sari before the blazing sun. Love’s glance is all I’ve ever known of heaven and hell. Dear God, is there still time to import these 2 saris To bring Your Songs of Love and Peace on earth? 1) Written for those who’ve come to my country with these 2 saris in their hearts. 2) Mani S. Irani was Avatar Meher Baba’s sister and served Him faithfully all her life. She was also a consummate musician who played several instruments (violin and sitar) and entertained her God-brother and His family. 3) Avatar Meher Baba’s Tomb is outside of Ahmednagar (near Arangaon Village) in the state of Maharashtra, India. |
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A Reprieve for an Encore
From White Flowing Sadra, 1998 Eternity is lending me some borrowed time, To change my gig; to dance a jig, At long last to tune my verse to rhyme. Only those who know they’ve nailed it, Achieved wonders after so many vain attempts, Can understand the addiction to Song, That keeps me riveted to song-weaving all day long. Each break a day, I go out wayfaring, When evening falls I lug home the nets that need repairing. The dark dome pierced with holes of starlight Summer sounds of crickets throughout the night, Keep me company as I sow and weave Preparing for the dawn before I leave. "You came for all in creation exept for me! I’ve never had time to sing my songs; I’ve never been free Of poverty, worry, dishes, kitchens and working for others Who took my youth, beauty, dreams, and strength for granted. The Lord of the Universe heard my heart break, And gave me a reprieve for my mistake. With the anguish that I’ve not enough time left So I would not leave His world disappointed and bereft. Meher the Fair granted my fondest wish come true How can I thank you Lord Meher Baba For this gift of my dream coming true? I will sing to your world of my impossible dream That You were true to me -- so I could be true to You. Tired, rejected back up on the shore, I thought love hopeless and not anymore. When the Master of Love and Song Glanced at me sidelong, And called for an encore! |
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Want of a Wife
India, December 1998 If you are lonely and need a wife Tell Meher of your sorrow and don’t hide Instead of attacking His lovers in (bitter) strife Humiliating your Lord and those He has called to His side. This hypocrisy for a woman or for coin gain Is the business of Maya and her con-men. You are deluded in serving Meher the Fair If you humiliate and grieve those He calls here. Far better a simple life on this earth A wife, a home, in honesty and mirth Than hypocrisy and hatred in Meher’s lane Becoming Maya’s servant, causing grief and pain. When a woman loves a man He has nothing to do but honor her love. When a woman does not love a man, There is nothing he can do to win her love. God inspires and ignites love in a woman’s heart, Whether prostitute or nun, laundry woman or queen. And no man can come between God’s will awakening Such a love in every woman’s heart. You may earn it from Meher the Fair This gift of a woman’s tender care. But attack a woman in His home, And you disgrace the One to whom they’ve come. And you disgrace the One from whom you come. This hypocrisy for a woman or for coin gain Is the business of Maya and her con-men. You are deluded in serving Meher the Fair If you humiliate and grieve those He calls here. |
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Offended!
From O Beloved I’m Yours, July 1997 Oh Meher, at every turn, I offend your creatures. And this damn sleeplessness has ripped the beauty off my features. Without a job, no friend, no sleep, While for the realms of music I weep. Why is there no peace in my heart? Why at every turn must a bargain be pledged for learning the art? The skinny violonist can play her strings all day And she can study tabla at night. But I am cursed with worries about money, about men, about offending your gurus at every turn. Help me Hafiz and those who tread these pathways to find my place A small haven of peace where I can learn to play my song and sing my piece. Oh Beloved Meher, you want to hear me Sing? Then find me a place in your universe not in prison like Sing Sing spending my precious time earning money and worrying About every problem I have not caused, that makes me sick. Or find me a home in your creation with a friend where I can study music And if I have not earned Your Grace to have such a place Then lay me to rest outside of this world, so I can sing in the next! |
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Love Sick
Written during the visit of Bhau Kalchuri, July 1997 I am sick for Love of the Friend Oh Summer Breeze, full of sweetness and hope of Youth's promise Bring my greetings to His poet Nightwatchman Because Karen is ill and cannot come in person. The cure? One glance under His Eyelashes To enflame the dying embers now in ashes. Do you know my illness and the cause? I am lovesick and heaving with sorrow my heart has taken flight to find another Too restless to pay heed or pause O Blessed Peace, why have you left me? Oh you meditators and peace makers On this path, there is no resting place. A dog and pony frey at best To see who sings a better song -- no rest! Fierce are the rivals at the palace gate. More than beggars waiting for a plate Spies and betrayal are the norm, No comfort or peace of hearth or home. Oh sweet domestic dreams of peace Harmony in home with a garden - Youth's promise What price paid for this Path? and Nothing gained but reprimand. I am shunned at home, in the market, Betrayed by spies and rivals on the path Oh You meditators and peacemakers, Beware the spiritual path! Sweet evening breeze, whisper to my Beloved I am ill and restless for His shining face Even one glance can still my heart from my bed Quiet the frantic beating, like a sparrow's fall from Grace. Do you still love me? How can I know? Ask me for a Song and then give me back my voice! All is in Your hand, O Saki But tho I find myself in the Tavern tonight There is no sight of You Sweetheart And no peace is my plight! |
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Jealousy
India, December 1998 Jealousy's an old hag sittin' by the road pointing To a bend on the path for our own sanskaric unveiling. Don't bother to greet this hag, Poverty of heart's in her bag Pay the price; so Meher grants What you covet in your brother. If He ups the ante, pay quickly He'll give what you envy in another. Chorus: No need for jealousy's hold Baba gives as much as we can hold. If you want to be happy at least don't make others unhappy The Beloved knows more than we do who to invite and who's to stay. It's not our job to judge and disobey, Or make each other sick on the way. Chorus: No need for jealousy's hold Baba gives as much as we can hold. The doctor gives each a unique medicine, Each disease requires a different prescription. If you serve without love and gratitude, Mind your own business is not your platitude, Instead of goodwill and gentle care, Then Maya is your guru, not Meher the Fair. Chorus: No need for jealousy's hold Baba gives as much as we can hold. Don't judge another's behavior; don't criticize their art, Encourage and cheer each other in your heart. Meher gives what jealousy covets, When ya' pay the price for His gifts. Stop spying and judging each other's pain, Stop driving yourself and others insane. With good-will seek the joy of each other, Precious wares found in heart's lane, Find in Meher what you lacked in your mother, Or sought in your lover in vain. Chorus: No need for jealousy's hold Baba gives as much as we can hold. For the Beloved is most generous And wants to see us all joyous! |
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Dialog with Passion
From The New Humanity Collection, March 1982 Passion, why do you come at such awkward moments, Fire of Earth, Disturbing the peace and agitating the breath -- Which would but for shame be singing easily in proper prayers? Daughter of Earth, don't waste precious time. I am the prodding instigator Neither good nor evil - His force For initiating and opening all which burns. You could not walk without my fire. Do you see a value in burning desire? Then serve all and fear me not. Nor Anger my brother But turn and hold us deep within To burn and melt the cold stones of the past In Love's service. When there's nothing left to burn, Then this you call Passion Will prove only His Light. Would you fear anything, it'd better be False Pride, Who'd have you imprisoned in frozen propriety And stony separateness; Rather than abandoned passionately And freely to God's Will - Or prone in peaceful, selfless bliss at His lotus feet. Then Passion, instead, to bide my impatient wait, May I serve watchfully the Friend - His Gate? |
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Christmas Eve
India, December 24, 1986 (last stanza from Baba) In the cool breezes the flowers' heads are nodding Flickers of pink, yellow, violet heads bobbing. While rose scents and frangipani fragrance fill the air, The singer sings her melodies for love of the Fair. When trees move their branches swaying in an azure sky, The robins chirp and hop below, but eagles fly soaring on high. The brook's sweet murmuring waters complain not As they glide rippling over rock. The fire's bright dancing flame dwindles not As the Shepherd stirs its embers while guarding his flock. In the moonless dark, the sheep call out Baa-baa, Baa-baa Though the blanket wrapped shepherd watches o'er them all night. In the Beauty of the Rose, too Is also hidden the thorn; When the heart is broken in two It feels bereft and left forlorn. Tho' you pine and weep in despair and hopelessness, The stars in all the heavens must wait eons for human consciousness. The love of God in human form ignites a flame Kept alive burning by repeating, calling out My name; If the heart is torn in longing for My kiss, Or for just My company which you sorely miss, Then remember the shepherd watching his flock in the night, While the sheep call out Baa- baa in sorrow and fright. At dawn's break they'll see in the morning light, That their shepherd has not left them in their plight. "I came in Man form to give you your parts To awaken your rosebud hearts. In this love for God I was sent To wake you to divine enlightenment." "So sing Jai Baba and be happy Serve, tend and love; be snappy! Don't make long face and all day moan, While I watch you in the night alone. Please Me now in thought, word, and deed, And soon you'll know I take care of every need." |
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