Grace

Top down, our days.
As I lay out your clothes for school,
teach you to count your allowance,
take you, protesting, to see the doctor.

Adult to child, I explain
why you must brush your teeth,
clean your room, go to school or
do the right thing.

Mother to daughter
I dress you In a costume I wore at your age,
I tell you the story of the day
you were born,
I teach you Italian.

But through the illusion,
the top down hierarchy,
beyond the apparent or the obvious,
I have seen A deeper truth.

And in that truth you were
as absolute as I, laughing
at the inconsequential.
In that blinding moment I saw, too,
your grace, no less than mine,

your heart greater.

 

Thoughts on the First Chakra

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