The Hand Reaches the World

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From an infinite well
I draw.
I draw,
first weeping. The
sorrows, boundless,
leaking from every corner
of my existence
into rivers and oceans
that carry the blood and carnage
of historical time
along a bed teeming darkness.
The sorrow returns
on self-same waters
but this time, they don’t
seep back in through my pores,
but stand before me,
and I look,
and I see.
Our journeys have diverged,
the sorrow now a story
I can read, take apart,
disengage from, though
it still breaks my heart
as long as there is
suffering.
From my place of heartbreak,
that place of pulsing life and living,
with all its triumphs too, and joys,
I draw from an infinite well.
I draw,
now bowing, smiling in tears,
knowing suffering belongs
to none of us alone,
that our stories commingle
and we don’t have to do
a single thing to enter
the place, One Heart,
that belongs to us all,
at once.

– tammy takahashi

 

 

 

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For Quan Yin

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Who is the she
of our arrival,
and are we not
already here?
 
The warm body
of our content,
the soft song
of our presence.
 
This is how we
find what we know,
and live no less
than we are.
 
– TT