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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