Sunday, April 23, 2017

Poem: The Sun by Alison Stone

The Sun

In his mother’s womb, the Buddha
blazed; her belly shone
like a translucent shade over a bulb.
Boulders, groundhogs, grass, your surly neighbor --
my light flares from everything.
With all shining, how can you not celebrate?

Let me melt
your stubborn sorrow, leave you
innocent and lovely as an animal.

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