The Women Learn the Invocation to Patanjali

to Gopi and the women in her teacher training

We stop and start, yogena, trying too hard

to not try too hard, voices smooth water moving slow

over the tremble of stone, the ease of eddy.

We want to land on each syllable, tilt it right

with inflection at just the right speed. We want

to sing with heart, to arrive together, in the lush

clearing of sharirasya despite the age of Kali,

our sore backs, the weather, and the small hurt telling us

we could never sing or sing well enough.

Invoke us Patanjali enough that each can

take her turn, sing a line to read the uncommon brail

of her heart, the common book we make together

out of pressed flowers from long ago, an apple

this afternoon, a long walk not yet taken,

sing us home, our long wings spreading,

our deep bones breathing

harih om