Monday, October 25, 2010
monday night rumi
The hurt you embrace becomes joy.
Call it to your arms where it can
change. A silkworm eating leaves
makes a cocoon. Each of us weaves
a chamber of leaves and sticks.
Silkworms begin to truly exist
as they disappear inside that room.
Without legs, we fly. When I stop
speaking, this poem will close,
and open its silent wings....
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