Poem: Meditation Class

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.

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