Edge of Me

I couldn’t sit

In the way of the Buddha 

Yet my being remembered 

I was not there

Missing but present

In total placement of self

More like absence than shape

Not even the edge of me

Then came the gift of 

Vaporous water streaming

Diffused with essence of lavender

Opening heart chakra

So far away from you

As if we never connected

Now letting go

You are closer than no time lost

I’m reading poems by Patti Smith

Because a friendly midwife 

Bore them to me at the bookshop

Along with a book of etchings by Blake

I know only that meaning is fragile

While sturdy poses escort your being

As if on tender wings of new flight

Soaring gently in the spring sunlight