“Now I lay me down to sleep […]”
If you should die before you wake,

what would you name your greatest lesson-learned?
What form would it take: animal, vegetable, mineral?

Where will you have left it?
Did you shove it in the back of your sock drawer?
Lock it in the shed in the backyard?
Arrange it in a vase on the living room coffee table?

Or has it been wandering the house on its own
all this time, where you’ve tended to meet it
unexpectedly? (And how did that make you feel?)

Who would find it when you’ve gone?
Where, and when and how?

What language would it speak to them?
Would they understand?

Is this what you want?

When you roll onto your right side
and tuck your knees into a fetal position
where do you feel the heaviness?

What would you do well to leave behind –
which tethers are no longer necessary
as you begin again?

New Year – New Life – New Shapes

(Baddha Virabhadrasana)

When have you stood your ground
while bending to the wind
like a palm tree in a storm?

What were you defending?
What were you holding on to for strength?
What did you lose?
Would you do the same again?

When have you stood your ground
while bending in the wind
like a willow tree in a summer breeze?

What were you sheltering?
What were you holding on to?
What did you catch and hold in your branches?

What have you learned from the trade winds
blowing east to west through everything that is you?
And how have you guarded your occidental heart?