Room (you matter part 2)

Is there really room for my grief?

So small, yet most tender in my flesh

When suffering lays down, so bleak

When the body of world aches fresh

Swirls all around, of crisis profound

in the mix of it all, Is there any room

With grief so raw, yet micro in sound

When the earth pain blooms & booms

Is there any room for my heart

to bleed, my eyes to leak & weep

When I am just the tiniest of seed

Within the global growing grief

How can I even come to speak

As if the ant could be heard

On the drop of the fallen leaf

And Yet where else to put my words?

Oh perhaps it’s absurd to hush, shush

to question the relativity of my gloom

Does the flower really tell the sun

Not to shine upon the ant,

Does the ant NOT feel the sun

Just as much as the flower?

May we make believe

our same such size

In the room, always space to grieve

As we are as much alive

As the ant & flower & tree

May our relativity be

Then notwithstanding

May the sensitivity of our reality matter,

Though beyond our understanding

as much as it matters to the ant, flower & tree

As We are always same size—

Co-holding the all-of-it with THEE

in our earthly interdependent commingling,

beings of ONE spirituality are we