cultivate – a poem

I walk out of yoga

full of breath and space

between my ligaments.

The smell of incense

and motherly love

from massage tables

hangs on my T-shirt and

I repeat my affirmation

from savasana

I am safe I am held I am whole I am loved

I have to keep reminding myself.

Outside the seagulls are singing

like they can sense the storm is coming.

The air feels anticipatory

like an October day in August.

I walk by the brick church

church of the city

and see plastic mini bottles

of fireball and gin

in the forgotten flowerpots

just sitting there in the dirt.

I am supposed to bring the love

I cultivated during my practice

out on to the streets

but I see the bottles

and I see the people waiting for the bus

And I just walk on by.