See control’s mirage
leading us trekking,
the course ground
through dry, gritty heat.
Throw out your arms.
Cross the bridge to trust, to faith, to hope,
to letting go, to releasing, to receiving, to believing.
Take child’s pose and crawl into the arms of God’s cradle.
not yet abounds.
darkness and quiet.
dirt, water, sun.
Breathe. Howl. Shine.
but not yet
I have heard making pilgrimage to India,
to study asana, is like being broken-open.
The first month you are cracked;
the second you are rewired,
and the third you are pieced together new.
I have heard making pilgrimage to family,
to co-create human beings, is like being broken-open.
The first child opens you, raw;
the second rearranges your understanding;
the third confirms the mystery,
and the fourth pieces you together new.