Me and Rumi’s Ghost1 min read

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One day, sitting in a café with Rumi’s ghost
over mint tea and biscuits, he told me about Shams;
rhapsodized over his eyes, his fine voice,
his heart that opened like a flower
breathing in and out his lover’s scent;
the whole body responds to that kind of ephemeral fragrance.
On and on he went, until finally,
“Rumi, my friend, you have to stop.
This is a poem about you, not Shams.”

“Samer, my dear, we are one and the same.”

Samer Rabadi

Samer Rabadi

Samer Rabadi was born in Jordan, but his parents soon traded one desert for another, making their way to Los Angeles. Years later, he finds himself in Santa Clara, CA where he lives with the love of his life and works to change the world.
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