Yoga Class Meditation
The tendrils that connect us are wisps.
Once so strong and muscular,
Some are thinning and whitening,
Soon to become remembered threads.
We send our own tendrils out
Seeking sustenance and support from the rocks around us,
Asking others to accompany us
As we journey into unknown lands.
The tendrils are unstoppable
Withering here, pulsing outward there,
Telegraphed in a glance, a nod, a touch, a word.
Love imagined made real, once again.
Artist name: Margaret Reich
Description: A poem I wrote after hearing of the last days of life of my yoga teacher's husband. I don't know how to create a URL.