Karuna -
the little birds say,
wrestling their wings
free of the rubber
bands. Binds contract,
yet they need this pressure
to push outwards. Dark
soil and savory sun
light; pessimism is a
habit. The birds fall
from the nest and
land in the open jaws
of the red fox.

Karuna,
they sing between
those sharp teeth, their
beaks full of bravado.
Turn up the volume!
The possums clap their
hands, tossing pinecones.
It takes a tremendous force
to be born. Expansion is the
weight of the past being
released. The birds fling
themselves from the nest:
some fly and some fall.

Karuna -
the little birds say,
no matter where the land,
the message is the same:
we must try. Compassion
is a practice. Set me
free, the bears bellow
into the twilight. The
moon is separated
from the sun by the
Earths rotation.
Confront your ideas
of limitation.

Photo source.