Tuesday, August 18, 2009

Found by the Pool

Lie on my mat,
Wait for the move,
The swirl,
The liquid whisper that frames
The healing.

Lie on my mat.
The water stirs.
Too slow to reach.
Too slow.
Lie on my mat,
Eyes burned by the sun.

The voice flows,
Submerging my mat,
Lifting to the light.
Ride the cascading spiral.
Pick it up.
Walk.

The voice vanishes
Among the dripping faces.

In my hands
Lies my mat.

3 comments:

L.L. Barkat said...

A poem! Happy, happy.

I love the repetition of "lie on my mat" because it has a wonderful tension/dual meaning.

Hey, welcome to the poetry closet. :)

sojourner said...

Very nice! This brought me into his moment.

nAncY said...

i hear the cadence of having to try again and again.