The Small



Why must you expand
when you could delight in an atom?
A photon of your laughter
encircles the sun.
The globe of one limpid tear
mirrors a thousand galaxies.
You are everything,
but that isn't enough
until you fit into this breath.
No dilation
without contraction.
Howl. Give birth.
Gaze into the dew of pain.
You came to marvel
at a dogwood blossom
bursting in a moon beam,
a mother curled in your heartbeat,
a father sleeping in your bellybutton,
Christ in a breadcrumb, crying,
“This is my body!”
What is the joy of great beings?
They condense themselves
into drops of love.


Dalit Madonna, India, by Jyoti Sahi

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