Rumi, “Silkworms”
The hurt you embrace becomes joy.
Call it to your arms where it canchange. A silkworm eating leaves
makes a cocoon. Each of us weaves
a chamber of leaves and sticks.
Silkworms begin to truly existas they disappear inside that room.
Without legs, we fly. When I stopspeaking, this poem will close,
and open its silent wings.
(submitted by jtlovelady)
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