I’ve tried throwing plates

burning photos in bonfire

climbing top a hill and screaming

but as soon as one plate cracked,

one spark singed,

one yell cried

the sadness swept over me.

root of this anger will not be ignored.


no need to lash,

I’ve learned.

since there is always more depth

needing addressed.

I’ve spent my days lashing and

trashing and boiling

only feeling


I had to dig under that volcano

to find the source of the lava –

heating it underground

was all my hurt


dukkha, buddha said, is the root.

I studied and I knew

but until I woke up

to see

the dukkha in me

would I begin to be free.

loving it, like my child

acknowledging, easing, holding –

holding my dukkha close to my heart

so close it wrenched until

my heart broke open

allowing that hurt in, but also love in

and she – my heart – told me

to cease my dukkha is by ceasing all dukkha

never causing pain to another

frees me

since we

are all




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