Savasana

Here in a room full of strangers
thunder living beyond dark windows,
in trembling silence of air
my body lies its warmth on cold
floor, eyes closed against a tangible
world, each tiny sound a touch.

We are no more than breathing.
Balanced at the top of an inhale
we live; at the base of an exhale
we die for a moment and hold it
close, that emptiness, that earth
scented weightiness, sinking.

I wanted, I wanted, I wanted
to create something perfectly delicate
carved of language, intricate patterns
of syllables. I wanted greater existence,
to know everyone, see everything,
be loved, be touched, to own.

But poised in fragile pausing,
just briefly all wanting has ended.
I search through this space
for a key to lock myself in,
but I built my walls in frailty this time,
they withdraw, withdraw and
the world pushes in.


Copyright Sophia Argyris 2009