She

Om Shrim Hrim
Sarasvati Devyeh Namah.
She is the downy softness
deep inside space.
She is the tear that
crystalizes emptiness,
the Lady who greets your
last breath
when you blow open
the door of night.
A lost bird sings to you,
longing for the nest you wear
like a crown,
rings and ripples of the diver
ebbing back to this
disappearing center that you are.
The owl returns, alights
upon your naked body.
You are that tree which attracts
flying things who need repose.
Dolphins surface in your uterus
to take their first inhalation.
Where do they come from?
The world inside.
That finch you saw today
in your garden,
dipped head-first in wine,
flirting with the firmest young pears
was another of
her countless hands
gesturing that all is well.
Now dare to soften your gaze
and see the one who sees.