meditation can be creepy (intermission #1)

in this stillness,
a room behind my eyes
no doors, no windows, no light
all my senses removed
why wouldn’t i be afraid?
where I cannot see or know
if this room presses in on me
or abandons me to a void;
or if there is anybody else
in here with me ….
this room inside my head
that takes somebody else’s
lessons and maps
to find myself
suddenly within

peaceful?

all this sanctuary needs
is the smallest grain of fear
and it will imprison me

all i need is a hint of invaders
entering this blind space
and it will possess me

make me choke and claw
to find a way out
of this damn calming breath
and seek only the light from without
make reason
something to hide behind

before i freak further out of here
there is another room
pull the attic light
yeah, there is one,
because i say there is. it is
no more than a swinging bulb
hanging from a wooden ceiling
with a simple cotton string
attached to its switch

go downstairs, modern girl,
go down your old spiral staircase
to the bottom of an equally dark
cavern; a vast belly of
enduring and patient stone
the sound of a drip
falling into a pool not far off
wonderfully cool,
potentially creepier
than that so-called sanctuary
but go ahead, wander further away
from the stairs and the light above
find the dark glistening waters, discover
glowing mushrooms, flowers, foliage
pulsing softly, swaying content against
my breath and darkness — greyed,

funny place to imagine hanging out,
for a girl who loves the sun
and bright, green, open space
but here, no one can see me
not even me, here
I can wash and rinse my sense
of sight and touch,
hang them out to dry for a bit,
as I lay my body aside, too,
and float ethereal
over this strange garden

maybe, when i miss the sun too much
i might want to check out
the chamber of the heart
yeah, there’s another room,
cuz i say there is,
this one is a really nice, warm boudoir,
with red velvet curtains,
firelight from a hearth
and small kitchen
desire needs to be fanned
in many directions, after all,
and it’s in the hearth
that i will find spirits and voices
faery folk, if you will, and
they are mischievous, child-like,
unconsolably sensitive and i will
listen to them, counsel them,
love them, but mind
that i must rule the heart and
not let the heart rule me

and somewhere in this temple
my piece of God
floats and flits around
my talisman and guide through
any way i go into meditation
and i fear no evil
as frightening as i can be,
she and i are one and
she and i will rise
when i need to defeat myself
it is with her shield
that i beat raucously against the night

and now i can return to my creepy attic
turn off all the lights,
give myself a chance
to open my mind, allow myself to see
without sight, the joy and light
of what infinity looks like
as it spans out before me
so wide

© lyw

(a funny and weird respite to the serious tone of this poetry series)


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