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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