Hold me close
How strange it is,
This thing called family.
Tight bonds of worry and concern
That span the depth and breadth
Of oceans, seas and the awkward
Timetabling of international phone calls.
How strange it is,
This exclusivity of love
For those alive primarily
In daydreamed fantasy
Whilst those whose everyday
Toil keeps us alive
Slip below the scope of our radar.
How strange it is
The pain felt upon brief separation
From ones enmeshed with ‘I’ and ‘mine.’
Yet largely unphased are we
By the painful arising and ceasing
Of life in the rest of the world.
How wonderful it would be
To be free of this
Bondage of partiality
That keeps us locked away
From seeing our true nature
Of expansive interdependency.
How wonderful it would be
To have a heart filled with love
Upon mere sight of that
Possessing the breath of life
Emboldened by caring concern
To be a cause of their joy.
May I work tirelessly
To see others outside the
Framework of just this life.
Setting those I hold dear
Free from a love encumbered
By unchecked expectations
And selfish motivations.
Moved by compassion
May I recognize all beings.
Kind mothers and fathers suffering
Within the depths of the cyclic round
Fueled by their own
Lack of equanimity.
Wise Ones, hold me close
As I disentangle pure intent
From afflicted ways of being.
So I can be of benefit
To all embraced as family.
Featured image / Virginia Streit