As I move
Through
Postures
Finding
Stillness
Then flow,
You
Dance
Around corners
Of my mind
And my mat
Sometimes
Clumsy  
And small,
Sometimes
Grown and
Full of grace.
And I
Imagine
To your face,
With tears
Streaking mine,
When once more
You are
Just
Out of reach.

Some days
(Especially those that echo with
“Move,” and
“Hurry,” and
“Do, do, do... but don’t!...”)
Those days
I may just sit,
And breathe,
And come back to sitting
And breathing
And if it takes
Every moment
Of my practice
To arrive,
Still,
I find myself there.

When the time
Arrived,
I didn’t.
I made an appearance -
A quick Hello -
Then scampered off
To solve Problems,
To anticipate Issues,
To recall Details
My mind provided
For careful
(And Urgent!)
Examination.
My body stayed,
Working
Excuses into
Polite Conversation.
Just in case.
And in the end,
It left alone.

I approached
My Self
With kindness
This morning,
Preparing
The space
To support
And to stretch,
To tear
So to mend.
I received
My Self
With kindness
This morning,
And then
We
Received
You.

Light
Fills
The stillness,
Silent, first,
Then crashing,
With my breath
A beat
Behind,
And I breathe,
And will
Breath
To fill
The stillness,
Meeting
The light,
Greeting
The crash,
And holding
Steady
In between.
And I breathe.

He acts.
A word,
A look,
A gesture.
And the hurt
He’s feeling
Strikes,
And she,
And I,
Fold,
Tucking in
Around impact
Withdrawing
Small
Around the blow.
From here,
I see
A yearning
There,
In that small space,
In her posture of diminishment,
And the yearning
Points to a need
Barely visible
Between the “no”s
And
(Switching
From memory
To intention)
She breathes
And I breathe
And we connect
In
And to
The strength
We embody
And gather
Our Selves
To join
For
And in
Expansion.

I notice,
Suddenly,
A path
Between
Now
And
Then,
Between
Here
And
There
Between
I
And
Thou.
And I
Recognize
All spaces,
Then,
As paths.

I feel
The world
Move
Around
Me,
Lain
Still and quiet,
And watch
The urges,
The questions,
The answers,
Rise
And fall
Away.
And I
Breathe,
And feel
The world
Move the
Most quiet,
Most still
Parts of me,
And the sound
Of “still”
Becomes “skull,”
And the sound
Of “skull”
Becomes its
Image,
And my mind
Settles
Buzzing
Blue wings
Just above
The left
Temple,
Before
I smile
And wiggle
Fingers
While
The chimes
Bring me back.

And from within
My edges
And the edges
Of my mat,
I crept
Around bends
I’d never noticed,
Reached for bits
Beyond bits I know,
Peered in spaces
Long forgotten,
And let my movement
Grow my world
And my world
Grow me.

Today
I began  
Tired
And alone
Bending my body,
And watching
My mind
Welcome
The folks
I carry
With me
Within.
And I realized
Suddenly
I’d been mistaken -
Today was not
The beginning,
After all.

I approach
My mat
Weary
And wary
Of what
I
Have
To offer
From
Beneath
The grip
Of pain,
And pain
About pain,
And about
That,
Too.
But the rhythm
Is easy
To track
To warmth
That melts
The intention
Between layers,
Between knower
And known,
Seer and seen,
And then,
Suddenly,
Between now
And now
And now.
And when  
After arrives
(And me
With it),
I notice
What’s
Been offered
And relish
The relief.

Finding
My shoulders
Set
In clay,
I invite
My arms
Open.
Open,
They invite
My heart
To shine.
Shining,
It invites
My sides
To lengthen.
Long,
They invite
My knees
To bend.
Bending,
They invite
My body
To fold.
And I bow
To greet
The now
Just
As it slips
Away.

I felt
The smile
Tug
At my edges
Before
Reaching
Those
Of my mouth.
Having let go
Just briefly
Of the have-tos
And musts,
I saw
The great play
I’d forgotten
I was
Cast for
And smiled
For the me
That forgets.

Stretching
Into the warm
Soft,
Living
Flesh
Of my body,
And past
Still,
I find myself
Suddenly
Aware
Of the bodies
That hold
The humans
I love,
And I pause
A moment
To stretch
Into that awareness,
Occupying briefly
Shoulders,
And toes,
Mouths
And skin,
That aren’t mine.
And I breathe
To a count
Of four,
And find
My edges
Safely
On my mat.

I sit
And breathe
With the owl
Song
And wish
For leaves
In thousands,
On the ends
Of arms
Spread,
Strong
And steady,
And long
For bits
To whisper
And shiver
With the wind,
A rustling
Swell
Behind owl song.
And then
I remember
To forget
Myself
As I sing
And rustle
And breathe
My way
To the next
Moment
We are creating.

Moving
This body
On grass
Between stones
In swirls
Upon swirls
Switching back
And around
Until start
Becomes end.
One step
Then another
Marks the silence
Gathering
Within.

Sometimes
I see
Evidence
In your text messages
That you are lost
But not enough evidence
To tell me where.

I glide
Between
Arms
And
Push heart
Before
Crown
And smile
As love
Clothed
As worry
As panic
As spite
Insists
Something
Wrong
Must be
Right
Or made
Right
For I am.

I breathe
Without
Being here
Sometimes,
My body
Moving on
To the next
Right
Thing
Without my
Permission
Or control.
And then
I recognize
My shoulders,
Or my big toe,
Or my weight
In the world,
And tug back
On that which
Let’s me call it
Mine.

I gather
Body
And mind
To my
Mat
Arranging
Them
Just so.
And my mind
Scampers away
And my body
Begins to cry
And I
Stop
And laugh
Out
Loud
Before gathering
Them back
And trying
The next
(Right?)
Thing.

I’m angry.
So
I find
My seat,
I find
My feet,
I find
My reach,
And I
Find
The
Beat
That
Slows
The world
And me
So I
Can see.
And breathe...

Yesterday
I heard
Her
Long
For the courage
To be still,
To release
The urge
To act
And receive
Opportunities
To grow.
Today
I set
The nest,
A courageous
Mix
Of firm
And cozy,
And draped
Her spine,
And hips,
And shoulders
In stillness,
To release
The burden
Of action,
And let
Gravity
Split
What growth
Will mend.

I circle
‘Round
Bends
That live
In my body
Even
When
We
Are
Still,
And look
Past
The path
I carry
With me
To the ask
I’ve not
Heard
Clearly
(Ever,
Or for some time).
And I
Take
The hand
I know
As mine,
And step
Into
The light.

I watch
My mind
Cast words
In lines
That carve
Then bind
To stem
The weeping
Of wounds
They leave
Behind.
And I breathe
Into
My body
Onto
My mat
Next to
My partner
Stitching bits
Together
In order
To
Remember.

I bring
The third eye
To the ground
And breathe,
Feeling the
Weight
I call “mine”
In the world
That we share.
He calls out,
Stops me,
From behind
And asks
For the part
That comes
After
The writing,
The part
That is
Us
Loving
Us.
And I
Pause
Insight
And slip
This weight
I call “me”
Back
Into bed
For some
Cuddles.

“Would you want to share first?”
They said
And I shared
Without knowing
What I wanted
Or wanted to say.
And I wrapped words
Around steps
So far
On my loud
And wordless
Journey
And they nodded
And listened
All the way to
The unanswered question
Of
One
Small
Act.
“An act to counteract,”
They called it.
Their name was Tabitha.
(I had them repeat it.)
Their name is Tabitha,
And they let me
Hold the question
Without answer
Until the bell.
And let me hug them
After we shared.

I awake
To a dream
Much like
That of sleep
And find
My way
To my
Self
On my mat.
I settle
Into the nest
I’ve created
And feel
My parts
Separate
Together.
I don’t
Dream
In the
In between.

I wonder
Briefly
How I’d
Look
To another
Watching
My spacing
And settling
Flow.
And the waves
Roar
My name
And the winds
Carve
My face
And the sun
Warms
My body
And I
Remember.

She starts
Between toes
In the webbing,
Touching down,
Between
Stable
Moments,
Two fists
And last breaths
Before she unfolds,
Unpeels,
And tumbles into sleep.

You flit
Across my
Mind’s
Eye
And
My mind,
It scampers
After you,
Finding
Plans to make
And
Problems to solve,
Before
I
Breathe
And open
My heart
To welcome
Us both
To rest.

Nothing will ever be the same.
This shared context.
It’s...Unreal?
Or more real
Than we can ever understand.
I keep thinking...
Am I dreaming?
Are we all?
...Asleep?
...Awake?
I am
I know
We are
I think
We know
That nothing will ever be the same.

I flow
And watch
My mind
Scamper
About,
Except when
I don’t,
When I wobble
And torque
With each
Glimpse
Of a time
That’s not now.
And then,
I ask,
What twin
Of mine
Suffers,
So?
Setting aside
My mind,
My body,
So my heart
Can open
(And my face
Can smile)
And remember
“We.”

My feet
Planted,
Belly
Twisted,
My fingers
Reach
Past
What I can
Know
To what
I can
Create,
If first,
I make space.
And my fingers
And mind
Wonder
What that
Will be.

I shift
To rise
And
To unfold
And watch
Legs
Extend from
Hips
He’s known
And held
As me,
And I
Wonder
What
And whom
They’re for
Before
I join
Him
And the others
In pretending
Together
To be
Apart.

I find
Myself
In
A world
Apart
All glimpses
And echoes
I can’t
Quite
Clutch
With words
Before the
Bell
Rings
Me back
Into skin
And I breathe
Space between
There
And here
And feel
Waking
And forgetting
As one.

I find
The posture
That follows
Next  
And watch
The versions
Of myself
Spin
Away
To later -
Cleaning,
And dancing,
And reading,
And cooking,
And laughing,
And I smile
As my body
Reminds me
Of other nexts
Before those
That follow.
And I breathe
And find
My posture
And watch
Once more.

I set timers
(When mindful)
So that
If
When
I slip
Between the seams
Of before
And after
And now
And now
And now,
I can find my way back.

I read it
In his voice
And giggle
As answers
Obscure
Responses
From no one’s
And everyone’s
View
The words
Slip
Between
Memories
Without
Traction.
And she giggles
To
Herself
Once more.

My fingers
Drift
Around curves
Along edges
Across swaths
I’ll never forget.
I lean in
Hesitant
And hopeful
Just one breath
With my cheek
To your back,
Fingers still
Busy
With recall.
And your flesh
In my lungs
In my brain
Smells
Of wreckless abandon,
And the me
I miss
In the mirror.
You feel
Me reach
And the spot
Where you stopped
Is only warm
For a moment
Once
I’m
Alone.

What is
Known
Slips
Through
Fingertips,
From ears,
From eyes,
From mouth
And nose,
And my
Mind
Reminds
And reminds
Again
Of her
Constructive
Tendencies.

Stuck
And struggling
She found her way
On her mat
To witnessing
The loveliest
Things in her
Life
Bubbling up,
Bit by bit,
Bound by directives
For how she must love them.
And for a moment,
She breathed,
And loved past
The musts,
And there was space
For them
And her lovelies
And her.

The bayou,
Named after
The saint,
Named as
My mother’s brother,
Doubles
The trees
And sky
Perfectly,
Rich greens and blues,
Like windows
For my church.
And I wonder
About my inverse
Who stays
Hidden
Until I’ve
The courage
To remember
To walk on water.

I invite
My
Self
To still
And my mind
Gets busy,
Making,
And mending
And mapping,
and may-being,
While my body
And I
Watch
And acknowledge
Her
Courage
When she pauses
And sees.

I hover
Above
My body,
Barely
Noticing
Its aching
And resenting
It anyway.
And then
I ask
For breaths
For stretches
For bends
And twists
And my body
Forgives me
My choices
And offers
Me
Three more
Before I
Realize
My prying
Falls short
And let go.

I rose
Restored
And searched
For words
To weave
Through
Echoes
Remembered,
To represent
Their shape,
To make
Them here
And now
And later,
For sharing.
But the words
That came
Bent to
Things
Noticed
Instead
And here
And now
I share.

I find
Myself
Surprising
Myself,
Delighting
In new paths
Between postures
And postulates,
The bits
Feeling
Arbitrarily
Divided,
Or
Loosely
Connected,
By stories,
Or both.
And I
Feel
My grip
Slipping,
And wonder
What
Becomes
Of that which
I let go.
And I giggle
On my next
Breath
In.

I start
Off flat,
My mind
Flowing,
Bumpy
And quick,
And passing
Me by.
And I watch,
As I rise,
My grip
Close
Around this
Word,
Then
That
Which
Slips between
Feelings,
Sensations,
To push
Me along.
And I
Reach
And I grasp,
And I grip,
And release,
And don’t
Notice
The effort
Until
I let go.

She eases
To her
Feet,
Shifting
Gently,
Slightly,
Between
To settle
Them
Into one
For a moment
Before
Splitting
One away
To fly
To pull
Her center
To bend
Between
Stillness
And flight
To settle
Into one
For a moment
Before.
And I watch
From within
And without
Occupying
Edges
Just long enough
To blur.

I lay soft spots
About
And drape her parts
Across and over
To rest and
Expand
To let
This all
In
With room left
For her.  
And I,
And she,
Feels
Gratitude.

I find ease
In my flow, and
I catch
My mind
Seeking,
Holding
A glimpse
Of what
Isn’t mine
For now
But has been
Before.
And she
Draws my eyes
To what has been,
What will be,
What could be,
If only,
Before I breathe
And notice
Resenting
My head
Doesn’t make it
Not hurt.
So I breathe in
What it is
To flow
And hurt
And out
What it is
To notice
Hurting
And flow.
And she waits
On my mat
For my ease
To return
So she can
Remind me
The other
She has
To offer.