The Arabs used to say,
When a stranger appears at your door,
feed him for three days
before asking who he is,
where he’s come from,
where he’s headed.
That way, he’ll have strength
enough to answer.
Or, by then you’ll be
such good friends
you don’t care.
Let’s go back to that.
Rice? Pine nuts?
Here, take the red brocade pillow.
My child will serve water
to your horse.
No, I was not busy when you came!
I was not preparing to be busy.
That’s the armor everyone put on
to pretend they had a purpose
in the world.
I refuse to be claimed.
Your plate is waiting.
We will snip fresh mint
into your tea.
This is one of the poems I strive to live my life by. The penultimate stanza belies an honesty that it takes so much courage to admit. When was the last time someone asked what you had going on in your life, and you replied: “Nothing. I’m not busy!” It’s hard to relate.
What does not being busy say about us? The speaker in this poem is bold enough to admit that busyness was a choice, and one that they did not make at that time. They make no pretense towards busyness as purpose in the world, a statement hugely antithetical to vast swathes of American society. We are taught that our work is our purpose is our morality. These threads run deep and are hard to untangle.
That line “I refuse to be claimed.” sits with me as well. Claimed by what? The busyness? A purpose? The world? In the moment captured by the poem, the speaker is in the midst of a great act of kindness, practicing the art of hospitality. All good hosts know there is a certain artifice to hospitality (a pretense that the food did not take all day to prepare, that the house was this spotless regardless).
The poem ends with the most important act of all: meeting the urgent needs of a weary traveler. Food, rest, and shelter. Fresh mint into the tea.
May this poem encourage us to remember the urgency of kindness, sharpened by the needs of hospitality to others. May this poem lead us to safe places where we can lay the armor of busyness down, even if just for a moment, to welcome in a stranger, even if that stranger is ourself.
Very thought provoking