March 11, 2014

Yoga Dream. ~ Michael Mark {Poem}


It begins with
you, stepping on my mat

and me,
forcing an enlightened smile

to cover my seething.

We all inhale three cleansing breaths,
boats moaning in the fog,
to bring us to our intention.

Your exhales come out of me,
raw, hungry.

I am the table top, you are the legs.
You are the cat, I am the cow.

In plank, I push you out of my mind.

What comes out is me.
You stay still.

The mirror reflects
my hand reaching skyward,

on the earth.

The strain you feel is mine.

Sweat drops mingle
and form a peace sign then

the Vitarka mudra of teaching transmission,

then Ganesh.

Eyes close, in savasana,
on a face I don’t recognize.

Tibetan prayer flags
fly over the dark room.

108 Namastes
from one
single breath.


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Editorial Assistant: Bronwyn Petry/Editor: Bryonie Wise
Photos: Flickr Creative Commons, elephant media archives

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