birdwings

Your grief for what you’ve lost lifts a mirror
up to where you’re bravely working.


Expecting the worst, you look,
and instead, here’s the joyful face
you’ve been wanting to see.


Your hand opens and closes
and opens and closes.

If it were always a fist or always
stretched open,
you would be paralyzed.


Your deepest presence is in every small
contracting and expanding,


The two as beautifully balanced
and coordinated
as birdwings.


~ Rumi