for Kayleen Asbo
In those days when I was terribly raw,
my friend would make mandalas
out of petals and sticks, pinecones and rocks,
sometimes shells, sometimes leaves.
She’d send a photo and a note
to say she was thinking of me.
I still marvel at how, of the thousands of choices
she made on any given day, she chose to spend time
sending love to me. How simple the act, really.
A smattering of acorns shaped into a circle
with some leaves arranged in the center.
Now I trust even the humblest, most ephemeral act,
when motivated by love, has the power
to reach through the years. Now I trust
I am made of thousands of acts of kindness,
most of them small. I can’t touch where they live
in my body, some I have even forgotten,
but to this day I am made of them all.