How like an arm --
this branch that bars my path to you --
it is as if you will not let me through
until I grasp the pain
this image represents;
until I comprehend
the magnitude of suffering,
the gift of Love
that, stripped to sinew, wound and scar,
dripping with remorse and sweat,
will bravely hold the world at bay,
protect us til we see at last
it is our own indivisibility
that is at stake
and sink in gratitude
upon the forest floor.
* * *
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