Poet : Uma Gautam

Taking stock of the attic 

Airing out with presence 

Old sorrows sulking on 

Hangers of stubborn wood 

Firm compassionate conversation with oneself 

Strike at plastic platitudes 

Who is listening ?

There is no one to listen 

I am heard and somewhat changed 

When I speak to myself 

From the heart very quietly 

Facing my fear of being frozen 

Crouching and shrivelled 

I see there is the one who waits patiently 

For the calm and courageous to be born 

A deep decision from the navel 

A Sankalpa to bring presence 

To an old habit of pain creeping up

The arteries and dousing the landscape 

With dull grey 

Honouring the subconscious 

Which houses not only dark shadows 

but also hidden treasures 

I never knew existed 

Searching through the coal mines 

of a shadowland 

and there they are ! 

Flickers of diamond light breaking 

through the soot 

Thankful grateful prayerful for all that is and will be.

The moments of exhilaration and strands of sorrow 

All weaving a tapestry of a rich glorious life 

Absence and presence dancing a twilight dance