A Poem: Meditation




I forget

again and again to

give my attention, give my self

to this silence

humming, beneath my breath,

beneath the ache and the song of this world.

This presence, here,

as we struggle

and miss

the bird gliding,

its warm body a whisper of weightless

flight, an arc

of truth lit

by the rising sun, then gone.

Eyes closed, my turn now

to soar in the sky,

to remember.

From this bird’s eye view,

there is no imprint on the trackless sand

though numberless feet cross

in a dance

in a dance

of the ephemeral


- Anahata Giri June 2013