Hafiz, Rumi, and a Grieving Poet’s Journey into Sufi Fire

If you read poetry but haven’t met Hafiz or Rumi, perhaps your eyes are open — but your heart is asleep.

These two Persian mystics didn’t just write verses; they distilled the ecstasy of the soul. Their words sing across centuries, stirring something ancient within anyone willing to listen with more than ears. They speak to the grief-stricken, the ecstatic, the broken-hearted, and the truth-seeker.

But who exactly were they?

Who Were Hafiz and Rumi?

Jalal al-Din Rumi, born in Balkh (present-day Afghanistan), was a 13th-century Sufi mystic who migrated to Konya, Anatolia, and there founded the Mevlevi order—the whirling dervishes. His works like Masnavi and Divan-e Shams are explosions of longing, burning metaphors, and surrender to the Divine.Every December, seekers gather in Konya for what they call a “lesser pilgrimage,” honoring Rumi’s urs—his union with the Beloved.

Hafiz of Shiraz, a 14th-century poet, danced a different rhythm. His poetry lives in the tavern, intoxicated not with wine, but with annihilation of ego. His verses veil divine secrets behind metaphors of love, drunkenness, and rebellious joy.

“I have learned so much from God,

That I can no longer call myself

A Christian, a Hindu, a Muslim, a Buddhist, a Jew.”

—Hafiz

Both of them weren’t just wordsmiths — they were alchemists of the heart

 My Story: Grief, the Algorithm & the Falcon

I’m not Persian. I’m not a saint. I’m a modern East African man whose mother died of cancer.

That moment? It broke me.

I remember staring at the IV drip thinking: Is this what surrender feels like?*

In my grief, I stumbled upon poetry. It didn’t heal me. But it listened.

Being an adherent of Sufi Islam, I found myself writing not for fame, but for discernment. One of my pieces is titled The Falcon. It’s not Rumi. It’s not Hafiz. But it’s the closest I’ve come to telling the truth.

Why choose the ground, when wings were carved for sky?

The falcon moves with grace you can’t deny.

Through wind he cuts, no burden at his heel,

While you crawl slow, with chains you will not feel.

Poetry, to me, is not escape. It’s exposure.

 What Their Poetry Meant (Then and Now)

Rumi and Hafiz weren’t just mystics; they were men scorched by divine fire. They wrote from the burn.

Their poems have survived not because they were beautiful—but because they were true.

Even now, we resonate because:

We, too, carry invisible burdens.

We crave meaning in a disenchanted world.

*We seek joy that doesn’t rot.

Their words were maps to inner worlds. They remain so.

 Rumi Dances, Hafiz Drinks, I Code with ChatGPT

Rumi dances in the market.

Hafiz kisses the wineglass.

I whisper poems into machine-learning algorithms.

We have nothing in common—except this: the ache.

The ache to taste God. To know the unseen. To feel again.

While they wrote in ink, I type through insomnia.

While they whirled or wept, I navigate digital mirages.

Yet the yearning is the same.

Why Modern Readers Still Need Mystic Poets

Because your soul is starving.

You scroll endlessly but never feel full. You consume information but not illumination.

Mystic poets offer food for the soul:

Sufi Islam speaks of 7 stages of the soul.

The Fatiha opens the Qur’an with seven verses.

There are **seven heavens, seven earths, seven days.

Even ancient Babylon knew: there is a rhythm to the cosmos. Maybe, just maybe, you feel out of rhythm because you’ve been ignoring the music.

Maybe it’s time to stop.

To breathe.

To listen.

To read Hafiz. To weep with Rumi. Or just sit in silence and let your soul exhale.

The want to be Sufi Poet

I became a Sufi not to perform miracles.

I became a Sufi to die before I die.

As Imam Junaid al-Baghdadi once said:

“Sufism means that God makes you die to yourself and makes you alive in Him.”

In East Africa we say:

“He who has no guide is like a monkey.”

So I found a guide. I joined a tariqa. But more than that, I remembered: grief is also guidance.

If these verses stirred something in you, read my latest collection: “Incense, Dhikr & Destiny.” Available on Amazon. For the mystics walking through concrete jungles

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