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May It Be

Before I knew skin was separation

or had any sense that the body was boundary,

I was everything you are.

Everything sky is.

Or ocean does.

The way a flock of birds migrate as a single wing.

Or a school of fish fit to water.

The way my grandson sees the world

without words

barefoot and antenna.

Picasso tried

to peel away the strokes

with his first set of eyes.

Lessen the weight of all his looking.

Shed what isn’t there—

What would it take

to remember

that we are all strung like stars

in constellation?

Inseparable from.

The center of.


for each other.

Whatever ingredients you hold,

may they be kind

may they add to the wholeness of

shining itself.

Deanna Nikaido

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