A small child wandered by
waving a deliciously bent stick
which he heaved into the froth.
Instantly the water wrapped
itself lightly around that stick
& kept on moving,
curling, jumping, singing
without missing a beat.

Then the child found a stone
and he threw that, too,
into the fountain,
using all his 8 year old strength.
As soon as the stone fell splat
into the quick shivering streams
they kindly made way for it,
not even pausing to say ouch.

If that stone had landed
on my slow dense body,
I would own a purple bruise now
as evidence that my cells
are collective soldiers,
trained to resist blows.

But not water. Not water.
Water simply splices open its arms
and lets everything tumble by
in a wash of forgiveness:
rocks, branches, people, fish,
even soda cans,
and keeps rushing onward
as if life were all about joy
and that's that.
Don't bother trying to stop me,
says each little waterdrop,
I'm too busy dancing.

Divine Love is like that.
Rivers of joy endlessly
flowing, forgiving, nurturing,
laughing, whispering, healing,
breathing love.

Holy One,
let me be
your vehicle
for That.
.



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