Sunday, August 13, 2017

Ujjai in savasana

The breath.

The breath comes in and out.
Each in, a refreshment;
each out, a release.
Behind closed eye lids
a swirling darkness
speckled with thoughts,
in and out, head lines.

The tears.

Then the tears, soft and kind,
little kisses at the corners
abscond with bits of worry.
Each escapee stealing a strain,
erasing foolish doubts
in rivulets of sighs and
in loosening the pangs of pain.

The balance

The see-saw of obligation,
each push and pull, each in and out
stretches to the corners of the mind.
And there is epiphany:
now the scale bears equal weight,
the tug-a-war is evened
and there is symmetry.

The memory

The memory divides and conquers,  
restores understanding
to trials and tribulations.
The center is calm     
despite each push and pull
and stretches the mind
to the corners of the universe.

Return to the breath.

The breath returns invisible
silent, unseen, conveying
simplicity to chaos.
The breath reminds the soul
that the things it knows
are still true; are truer still
and the body is whole.

Sometimes I am not in sole control of my soul

upon awakening,
I should find what I am thankful for to begin the day.
I roll over instead and grab the puppy
for a security blanket.

upon rising,
massive stretching is required before movement
and the feet are tender as if they have shrunk overnight
and can not support me.

upon walking,
I haven’t settled on a single thankful thing –
not that I’m not.  Just undecided. 
Bed or day.  Day or Bed?.

upon breathing,
I am glad I am alive; there is much to do
to put my house in order –
and figuratively.

upon thinking,
I realize staying focused on the present moment
is easy without a To Do list.  I think this is key. 
Why has no one written a book about this?

I wash my face and brush my teeth.

Saturday, January 14, 2017

Thousand Island Park, NY 2016

You love the wind.  It fills you up.
It whips the leaves on the trees, and
your shirt, your hair, your eyes, your heart.
It takes all your breath away.

You love the sun embracing you.
It brightens the world, steals the night,
swims around your body lighter
than human touch.  It warms your heart.

Sunlight and wind conspire to chip
the river waves into diamonds --
diamonds that whip their way into
your eyes as unshed sparkling tears.

The sunlight, the strong wind and waves
fuse to gently rock this cradle
suspending your course of action
and desire for destination.

Solitaire 2

“What do you want me to do?”
I heard these words from my mother
when, as a teenager,  I had driven her to distraction
which was, of course, my goal.

I always had an aha moment afterwards
as if I had broken her.

And I heard them again two years ago
as she lay dying and then I knew
she was broken again and I also knew
she had not been talking to me.

I’ve become aware of something else:
I am more like my mother than I thought.
I was my daddy’s little girl:
busy one hundred percent--

learning to shoot a bow and arrow,
learning to swim or fish,
learning to use a hammer and nail
and following him everywhere.

“What do you want me to do?”

My mother used to play solitaire
a lot of solitaire, peeling and stacking cards
by threes, in piles of thirteen.
I thought nothing of it.

She loved playing cards, especially bridge.
A hobby, a way to pass time.

And now, I pay solitaire
on my cell phone
between times like my mother.
Aha, the distraction, the escape.

And now I find myself saying,
“What do you want me to do?”