the simple quiet within

the simple quiet within
the point of stillness
the center of breath
the space around these words
the place from which the ripples come

when joy shines

when joy shines
in my teacher's eyes
when measured tones
speak the middle way
when softened hands
press down and lift
when sweat drenches my mat
from these words and this path
till we lie like the dead
alive and washed in the peaceful tide
of slow even breaths
then sit
and open our hearts and hands
to greet
and speak, "Namastai,"
radiance from my teacher's brow
washes over me
till my stiff wooden frame
begins to bend and creak
in the heat of that joy
and the steam of that sound
we do not speak

holding the pose

holding the pose
breathing into the strain
seeing the loved one
knowing the plain way
of abandoning the bent thought
to strengthen the bent limb
in the pose of love
that is no pose
at all

On finding a new teacher

when winter seems everywhere
and tiny wavy leaves shoot up
what good can they do
so new
until the warmth of purple
peals forth from
outstretched petals
small and strong
loud and long
till the earth is wet
with water once frozen
now freed
by a bud
of purple persuasion


I wrote this in March after my first class with my teacher Prana.

Introduction

This is a collection of yoga inspired poems. Some are connected to days, some are not.