Mother Dharma

A child is a slow 
moving thought
you watch.

Its departing birth 
a new entrance, 
subtle, inching back 
into into into you.

You surrender
your eyes, let it
commandeer hands,
arms and legs,
eat your heart, 
guts and brain, 
become your bones, 
your size, watch it 
dissolve into a dazzling
dangerous world, 
into its own child. 

Helpless, welcome 
it like sky burial:
child into child 
into child burial.

Embrace the lineage 
of generous forgetting,
your liberation.


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