isn’t it funny

isn’t it funny

the way it is that

embracing wholeness begins with letting go

darkness unveils hidden light

and spaciousness enfolds

 

isn’t it funny

the way that swaddling becomes burial shroud

and unraveling discloses form

the ways we get entangled in the shreds

 

isn’t it funny

the way forgiveness leads to

freedom to love

when we think it is heading

to consent to harm

the way acceptance of the ugly

makes it beautiful

 

isn’t it funny

the ways i think i’ve figured it out

that turn out to be wrong

yet lead me back around again

to the way things are

  

swaddling clothes

i chase these dangling threads
certain
that if i don’t retrieve them all
and tie them back in place
it will come unraveled.
at times it seems as if this whirling wind
is ripping it to shreds
beneath my clutch
the edge is tattered, torn
but what i cannot see is that
the rent is opening
unbinding this too heavy cloak
that i no longer need
and weaving me a garment
made of light

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