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July 21, 2014

Is there Room on your Yoga Mat for Me? ~ Michael Mark {Poem}

MessyWoman

What if we invite fear onto our mat?

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?

 

Can we find a place for love on our yoga mat?

 

Really?

How about my love

on your  yoga mat?

 

Any room left for introspection?

The will to release guilt, hate, attachment,

hunger, laziness?

 

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,

forgiveness,

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?

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Editor: Travis May

Photo: Pixoto/ Ann Slatford

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