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.

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