Can we accept imbalance as not wrong
and not right?
How about another yogi’s leg flying in
our air space?
And then it lands—BAM-SPLASH—
right on our mat?
How about my love
on your yoga mat?
Any room left for introspection?
The will to release guilt, hate, attachment,
The need to be safe?
Ooh, what if we invite it all?
So everything fills up every tiny space:
memories, the smell of your breath,
the smell of another’s, bravery, interest rates,
a hundred billion random thoughts,
two hundred billion—all piling on each other.
A lopsided mess of everything
clinging to our limbs like needy babies
as we move through our Asanas.
Because there’s nowhere else for
everything in the world to go.
Our mats are our world.
Love elephant and want to go steady?
Editor: Travis May
Photo: Pixoto/ Ann Slatford