The teacher
Her grey hair thick and spilling
Chanted Om in quiet room
Filling with vibration
The beat of our efforts
Twisting, turning against, Winter’s pinch
She places her wide palm
On my pain
We say nothing
The movement is our language
I see my thin arms
Draw in unknown strength
Holding me up, though I would lapse
I remember being seven
A year since my mother was gone
The door still too heavy to open on my own
Practicing in a room of adults
One lady had a long back and narrow waist
Another, cast her shoulders against
Cold draft of late arrivals
I was relieved to be 
A child
Not yet held to standard, free to swap error 
Watching others
Pile obligations on their shoulders like camels
Bending low to earth
Forgetful of the impulse
To stare into the sun

0 Replies to “Vibration”

  1. “She places her wide palm
    On my pain
    We say nothing
    The movement is our language”
    This is incredibly beautiful and intense at the same time. It reads like a life lesson, one many can benefit from. It’s amazing what happens when we lose ourselves in the things that are offered to calm us, provide strength, and understanding.
    The photo is amazing too.

  2. Your poem is so very lovely, it is like receiving a bouquet of beautiful flowers to begin a new day, that gives birth to many smiles on ones face! Have a wonderful and blessed Sunday!

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