Tessa Ransford OBE, Hon.DUniv (Paisley), MA, Dip Ed Poetry Practitioner and Adviser

The Persian Carpet The real gardens are in the heart ( Jalaludin Rumi) Dawn begins with a hymn, birds and clouds, music and flowers and the crested cockerel of day crows us to prayer Flowers are lavish jewels in the meadow to glint in sunbeams and dance transfigured in chalice inlaid with topaz and pearl Deep-eyed deer and squirrels, from serpent to valiant steed sanctuary for lives in abundant measure Rocks stand piled on rocks, top crazy, the many mansions of heaven pavilions for shade and raiment of green and gold Medallions of lapis lazuli are hidden aquifers where rivers run of honey, milk, forgiveness Dark shadowy cypresses, willows weep and grieve pear blossom and parvaneh adorn the parkland Water channels keep flowing however arid and barren the wind mapped on the carpets, they irrigate the gardens Sevenfold walls of mud or stone protect from the King of Locusts who wears disguises in every cared-for plot The first wall is our family - the second our teachers - the third our friends - the fourth our home-felt place - the fifth is our hope - the sixth is our kindness - the seventh is a lighted lamp in the tent of the blessed at the feet of the knower and lover of ancient wisdom. Roses may wither but poems endure - buildings decay and fall yet the word is hidden encoded over the earth In devotion we walk the line the square the dome the turret, the fountain to kneel and adore our carpet, our paradise garden parveneh = butterflies Tessa Ransford Written after exhibition and conference at the Burrell Collection, 27th March 2010