Poems by Homa Mojadidi

Rumi Says—

Rumi says 	      our caravan isn’t one of despair
even though I keep hearing despair 	  knocking
                			                     on my door
                                   every day louder than before

I wish I had 
his mountain of faith		     or
the beauty of his visions and his verse

I wish I had his glimpses into
the mysteries of the unseen 

the divine whispering its secrets
                                             into his ears—

Or heard angels singing God’s praises
               from behind the firmaments

Or saw them welcome souls into heaven
               with their greetings of peace 

But	       I cannot see past this veil
                                              of tears—
I cannot see past
                              this endless trail of blood—

               or the sights and sounds 
               of suffering assaulting my eyes and ears

I try to imagine what
               Rumi would say if he were here—

I think he might try to tell me that
               the help of God is ever near—

to never let my heart
		             be occupied by despair 

to look up towards the sky 
               and see how the golden clouds at dusk
               are reminiscent of dawn’s bright glare—

The Saint

A man sits still in the midst of the East-African desert
in a simple tent in a loose sky-blue cotton thawb
with gray disheveled hair          eyes closed
desert dust glowing on his luminous brown skin 

                                                          His students sit around him
                                                          on the sandy floor 
                                                          in silent reverence
                                                          waiting for him 	      to speak 

                             When he does         his words fall
with the gentleness of spring rain 
                             	             on fertile ground—


                                                           I dreamt of this man last night
                                                           though I’ve never met him
                                                           I found myself at the threshold
                                                           of his zawiyah—waiting to be received


He sends for me         beckons me in
asks me to sit beside him
gives me something sweet     to eat


                             When I step outside
                                           I step into a different world— 

                                           I am no longer bound
                             by the laws of gravity 
                                           I find myself          running freely through the air
                             rising    with such ease—

              and the trees have fish for leaves

Homa Mojadidi is an Afghan American poet and translator. Her translation work has been published in Asymptote, Washington Square Review, and longlisted for Deep Vellum’s Best Literary Translations, 2025. Her poems have appeared or are forthcoming in One Art: a journal of poetry, Beyond Words Literary Magazine, The Blue Mountain Review, Gulf Stream Review, Calyx, and the Arcana Poetry Press Anthology. In her own poetry, Homa explores the themes of loss, exile, memory, and mysticism. She has an M.A. in English from the University of North Florida and an M.F.A. in Creative Writing with a concentration in poetry from George Mason University.