This Rumi poem was sent by a "devoted" reader - yes, I think that was the word she used. Namaste.
Birdwings
Your grief for what you've lost lifts a mirror
up to where you're bravely working.
Expecting the worst, you look, and instead,
here's the joyful face you've been wanting to see.
Your hand opens and closes and opens and closes.
If it were always a fist or always stretched open,
you would be paralyzed.
Your deepest presence is in every small contracting and expanding,
the two as beautifully balanced and coordinated
as birdwings.
2 comments:
loved your birdwings posting.
signed,
another devoted reader
Thanks! I can't take much credit for it though - not my poem, and it's an incredible photograph, again not mine.
But, two devoted readers... that's nice.
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