When I had no prince, I made the world my love.
I watched snow fall outside the window,
strangers on the subway, the onions I cooked.
I told everything I love you.
When my mother asked why my food tasted better than hers,
I said L-O-V-E was my secret ingredient.
When I lost my love, I made myself my enemy.
When I became the enemy, my heart decided she was a groundhog
and everything I did felt like a shadow,
like following, but there was no leader
and everyone was lost. No Simon.
No Aaron, no wedding.
When there was no wedding, I still had the dress.
A hope ghost that I sold for money.
When I spent the money, nothing changed.
When nothing changed, once there was a princess
who lived in the land of Love Limbo,
and once upon a time, you’ll have to bend
before the stick, before ever after,
and breathe your own way back to happily.
I wrote this poem after reading Robert Pinsky’s Samurai Song. I find it amazing what other people’s poems trigger. 2013 was probably one of the most difficult years of my life. Lots of loss due to family deaths and an engagement that never became a marriage. It’s been a year that I am grateful for my yoga practice. If not for that, I have no idea how I would have stayed centered and grateful. This was one of those poems when once began tumbled forth, revealing things that I may not have known on an external level, but felt internally. I find, that writing, just like yoga has the capacity to reveal and heal simultaneously. And it ends on the breath, the deepest resource we all have.