If I Could By Wendy Stern...
Be your suffering,Hold it in your hands,Feel it – smooth, clay, porcelain,Feel the enclaveOf its cheek-bones,The protrusion of its lips,Search its detail, its intricacy,With the intentionOf wisdom,Of acceptance,Of acute subtle awareness.
Watch it as it changes,Melts, dissolves,Falls to pieces in your hands,No longer defined, definable.
No longer "me”And “my suffering,”Just suffering,Coming and going,Passing through,Coinciding with the self.
This way and that,Time and time again,Habits,Responses,Expectations,Loss,Nothing unique,Nothing personal,Just the mindClinging to an idea of itself.
Pieces of clay,Pieces of suffering,Fragments of change,Resting in my hands,Ready to become anything...
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