how to meditate, or douse the flames, or plant the first seeds of healing

{i don’t know exactly what it is that you need, but i am pretty sure it is one of those things}

to be fair, this is not a poem, rather, it is a rough guide for ordinary people, or tired mothers, or anybody, really, who hasn’t got the time to find their way to the secret mountain

{it doesn’t exist}

you think it is so complicated
when honestly, it is not

even right there where you are sitting
—are you on the bus, or waiting for something to leave, or arrive
—perhaps, someone

or maybe it is a small inner war that you have tried to douse the flames of

you don’t have to believe what you have been told, you know

you can do this

you have all the wisdom right there, just waiting to be called

the whole world is held suspended in a web of choice, or rather
choices

millions, upon millions
of them

if you secretly dream of putting out all the old fires, even those that you were given—old, hoary flames passed down through the generations

the ancestors don’t always give us gifts that are tender and lovely
—some require fierce courage, but here is a small truth that i eat fresh every day:

everything that howls, and growls, and shames
can only be tended to
once it has heard its name fall from your mouth

until then it will continue to live in the undergrowth

are you ready?

then close your eyes
—just for a little while
you do not have to go the mountain top

who has the time for that?

if you are like me, it won’t be long before somebody needs you to keep them alive

so be quick, close your eyes

breathe

just in, and out, is good enough
—there is no need to be fancy, or clever
with the way your lungs have always drawn
the breath
into your waiting body

the trick is to call your eyes home

—remember all the little choices?

turn your vision inwards
watch for the whisper of breath wherever it calls your attention

as unremarkable as it might at first appear to your questioning, this is the place you have been searching for

stay here for a little while longer

it is so easy to return, to find your way back

you have always had the key tucked up in your sleeve

you think it is so complicated when honestly, it is not

look!

you have opened your own front door, carrying cups of water with your own hands

you have returned home

already the first flames are being doused

already something rises
from the ashes.

© Liezel Graham 2024

let me tell you a small truth:

it’s really so simple.
just begin by closing your eyes—almost all good things begin this way… and then you watch your breath.

do this. return to it.
nobody else has the key.
it has always been with you.

liezel