I live my life in growing orbits that move out over the things of the world.
–Rainier Maria Rilke
We let it be so small,
that which contains us—
the scalp, the skin,
the windowless room
with low ceilings and buzz
of fluorescent light.
We circle and circle
like dogs searching
for the perfect resting place,
traveling in tight orbits enclosed
by clocks that chime the wrong time,
black boards stained with yesterday’s
words, tangled wires and shelves
of books unread.
Sometimes I believe it’s possible
we might become less solid,
move through the walls
like the ancient wave of ohm,
like a rising song. It is so small,
this room of knowns,
and though we have
been bruised before, trying
to turn walls into exit doors,
let us try again a new unspiraling
something we cannot yet imagine.
R .So right on, thank you, and I love the Rilke words. Jim
“breaking open—not, out.”
for some reason, I’m remembering the rumi edict: why look like a dead fish in this vast ocean of god?
i’m thinking the final stanza could stand on its own. it seems of a different, deeper, character than the other two.
oops, misquoted: “breaking open, not _down_”
I think you do the orbits well here, from the literal scalps, dogs, and clocks, to the broader habits and places of containment. I do love the last stanza’s attempt to escape these circles. My only suggestion might be to get the “I” out of it and stick with the “we” you have used throughout the poem:
“Sometimes we might believe
it’s possible to become less solid…”
I after years and years of trying to meditate was finally taught to become water by my very wise Physical Therapist. Oh, the letting go was so hard, so soft as I fell, fell, fell safe on the tips of her fingers.