In meditation class this morning,
I got lost behind my eyes,
mind slipping from place to place,
feeling jumpy, agitated,
and alone in the dark.
This is normal, I know.
Don’t even try to meditate,
he says,
just sit.
My nose itches,
a classic distraction,
but I decide to lift my hand
to scratch it anyway.
Listening to our bodies
is one of the most radical
and revolutionary acts I know.
Then, even though it is meditation class,
I open my eyes.
I let them drift into the mulberry leaves,
to the gray phoebe skipping
from branch to branch.
I see a light-spangled spiderweb,
the bright rays of the sun,
and the shadow of a vulture’s wings
in flight.
Here, eyes open in meditation class,
I discover I am found.
