I take my failure to the Beloved,
like a sparrow fallen.
She holds it as if it were her own child,
which of course it was.
She sees my grief, the fracture.
But she smiles as if it is a beautiful gift,
which it is.
My sorrow, my regret she holds
as gently as the bird,
and smiles,
because she still hears the singing.

Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
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