Yoga for One
The room widens, the floor unfurling
all directions. The air quiets on her arms
and face. She sits in the center of the mat,
hands on knees, and breathes in the wide light
of the early afternoon, the walls breathing
with her. She bows and waits, listens
to the tone that chimes in the clearing
in the center of whoever she is.
When she stands, the golden bird in her heart
spreads its wings as she lifts her arms and life
while bending her knees. When she unfolds
into Triangle or compresses into Tree,
she asks the light of day to keep her upright.
When she falls, she falls willingly,
the blossoms of new sky suspended like all
she ever dreamed of, the aches of the past
or present surrounded with this tender joy.
By the time she's lying in corpse, she's changed
size, time zones, ideas, continents and stories
so many times that she's forgotten all the fragments.
She remembers instead the endless sky
around her, within her.