Fear falls off my fingers.
What’s left tries to not grasp the air, hanging in space. I turn around and what I see cannot see me.
I give it a name and a shape. A tiger stuck midair. His flight frees me. And what I know unravels into sheathes of hope at my feet. Yet I cannot touch these petals. Their smell is soft and radiant.
I begin to unfold.
My heart is a flower, though the wind is cold and frost graces morning. I take a picture of morning sky, clouds lilting against the lavender of sunrise. I see a fox in the middle of the road, still. I slow down as I watch her amble to the other side, quiet as breath.
I listen to the beats in my chest. The music builds a melody around me.
I have somewhere to go yet no destination holds me.
Soon I arrive, though time has stopped on this feeling and the moment perfumes the air with the smell of freedom. To me, that is bread baking in my kitchen and myrrh burning in my living room. A memory begins to dance: my granny in her chair with Lawrence Welk on TV and the bubbles floating as my sister and I giggle.
I breathe deeply. I turn the ignition off. I sip tea.
The dogs that live here come toward the car, as I open the door and say, “Hello.” One of the dogs is very old; his time is near. The other is like a child, eager to please and with poor manners, wagging his tail afraid he won’t get his share.
I think we often feel like both of them, the pressure of time running out on the hand and the need to be loved stronger than what decorum demands.
I step out into the day and the ground is still wet. The earth holds a promise. I take it all in and reach for my bag, grab my tea and walk to the door.
I offer thanks to this as I take mindful steps, each footprint making its mark as I scan the sky and ask what is to help me help myself, guide me from now to then, until my hands don’t need to let go of fear again.
I am a full time yoga teacher, trained at City Fitness in Washington, DC and Willow Street Yoga Center in Silver Spring, Maryland. I have been writing poetry since I was nine years old. Poetry is my first love and yoga continues to feed my heart. I write because I love it. I teach because I love it. I tell my students all the time: do it because you can. That works for me. I believe in creating opportunity. I believe in helping my self and others. I think faith is the most important gift of life, because when we lose everything else we still have that in our heart. I believe the natural state of being is happiness, or bliss, or Ananda. Life is a celebration. Poetry and yoga help me celebrate. Check out my website and blog here.
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Ed: Brianna Bemel
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July’s Full Moon in Capricorn: The Heart wants what it Wants. How to Love a Woman who Scares You. Our Soulmates are Rarely Who We Expect. The 4 Stages of a Good Divorce. I Still Think of You. Men, Let’s Stop Fooling Ourselves: Size Matters. Reading This Takes Guts. To the One Who Tried to Break Me. An Open Letter to the Fixers. How your Stored Memories in the Amygdala can lead to PTSD.