This poem springs from the collision of two forces: A prompt to write a poem with unusual restrictions put on it, and my recent rededication to daily interconnectedness meditation. I chose for my restriction a countdown of syllables per line, 10 to 1, then back up, 1 to 10. It turned out to capture both the rhythm and the path of the meditation, which is based on following the breath, in a way that pleases me.
Meditation on Respiration
What was me is now not-me: Osmotic
gases from my blood ride the borrowed
air that my lungs return to the
universe with interest
paid in humidity
and heat. The flowers
I whisper to
then draw again,
engage in exchange,
swap-meet with the grateful plant
on the table next to my blue
tea cup: What was not-me is now me,
suffusing all I am with all it is.
(photo: stock photo)