I was born between two trees at the
intersection of heaven and earth.
There is a grace and virgin space
between self-awareness and self-forgetfulness
Where all that I see belongs to the
mystery I do not see at all.
I feel the untouched point in being and nonbeing
Where paradise breathed in is
promptly expelled
Yet surrounded by the hell of greed and violence of a possessed people
Who possess what does not belong to them.
Midwives who have forgotten their place
In the space contained by the one
who gave us generous belonging.
From the moment earth’s belly
swelled
Humans of humus were luminous but
still indigenous of dirt.
This dirt stands by as we make
her property
And forgivingly takes us back when
we fail for the last time.
Someday her silence will break of
how she was loved
And how she was not loved at all
And we will only reap deep regret
of the harm
We refused to look and see for
fear we’d need to change.
For we lived against the grain of
love and trust,
As hope was raptured into
storehouses
Hoping excessively for ourselves,
optimistic
Against the nameless one naming
all
Who will mend all the small
things well to make all things right.
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