Reflecting on the broken robin’s egg—
a sky-blue secret surrendered to the earth,
shattered so that life might breathe.
Soon the nest will be empty,
but the spirit that resided there does not leave;
it simply sheds its boundaries.
To mother is to walk with a heart
forever outside of your own ribs.
It is the realization that the “empty” nest
was the opportunity for an expanded devotion.
The walls fall away, the mud and grass dissolve,
until the entire world becomes the nursery.
We are called to be the soft place for the world to land.
In a landscape of sharp edges and cold stone,
the nurturer becomes the bridge.
Compassion is the only thread strong enough
to mend the fraying edges of the human spirit.
Look closely: every child is your own,
every trembling creature is a tenant of your grace.
Life does not exist in fragments,
but in one great, gasping, beautiful weave.
This planet is the only nest we have,
and every soul within it
is worthy of our mothering.
