these are not my words…

As I put things together, I am reminded of love, of gifts. I am reminded that I once knew how to write. I am reminded of this, given to me from Tantra, the end of November, 2005…:

There is a brokenness out of which comes the unbroken,
A shatteredness out of which blooms the unshatterable.
There is sorrow beyond all grief which leads to joy,
And a fragility out of whose depths emerges strength.
There is a hollow space too vast for words
Through which we pass with each loss.
Out of whose darkness we are sanctioned into being.
There is a cry deeper than all sound
Whose serrated edges cut the heart as we break open
To the place inside which is unbreakable and whole,
While learning to sing.


We learn to sing.

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