Are not two sparrows sold for a penny?
Yet not one of them will fall to the ground
apart from God.
Little one, most ordinary,
without bright plumage
or heroic migration or beautiful song,
I see you. I delight in you.
The sky you fly through is my heart.
The ground you pick at is my hand.
The seed you savor is my flesh and blood.
I love you not for your appurtenances,
but for your soul.
I know you from inside:
I am the Love that draws you into being,
and you are my love,
flown around the sky to return to me.
I have chosen to appear
as a sparrow among sparrows.
Yes, there are others. I am in them also.
With a sparrow’s eye for detail
I know you. I go with you.
You will fly, and you will fall.
But you do not fly or fall apart from me.
Your flying and your falling is mine.
It is I.
Go, little one. In every moment
it is I.
—June 19, 2017