ANNE WHITEHOUSE

Meditation

Alignment is the key
that opens the door to concentration
only when I know my body at its limits
can I find balance

moving into stillness   
yoking the opposite
tracing the well-worn paths
of my scars

forming them   following them            forsaking them

every day I practice my death
feeling the silence
                        dappled rainbow
cast by stained glass
                        on the walls
the stone floor

A field of cattle and the dead branch
of a tree where cattle egrets roost at dawn,

cool sound of rippling water
as a red darning needle
makes invisible stitches
up and down in the air
up and down

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