Poet’s Corner: Monday Night Yoga

I’m flat on my back
my heels spread as wide as the mat
my fingers stretch like star shapes

my palms face up because I’m
trying to be open and at peace
I’m trying to welcome news things
like change and balance

but the man next to me is sleeping
through his shavasana and snoring
so loud I can’t count my breaths
or empty my mind or be grateful

I turn to him and whisper be here now
but he is somewhere else

and now I roam

thinking how earlier that day
I sped up over a hill
slammed on my breaks
to let a guy j-walk his dog across the street

he never once looked my way
no wave or acknowledgment I could have hit him

how strange it would be to die
without meeting your killer’s eyes
at least once

I’m back on the mat
because I’m told to wiggle my toes
the man stops snoring
I’m told to lay in a fetal curl
my face between my knees

I begin to tally-up the things I love
including the man beside me –
I don’t know him
but I’m supposed to create space for new things

I open my eyes          
smile and nod at the man

he scratches the inside of his nose
and walks away

I roll up my mat
tuck it under my arm
thinking more about the guy and the dog
wondering where they were going

Top photo: Bigstock