A Guided Meditation
“La Baignoire” by Pierre Bonnard (1942)
Intertwine your legs,
let your ass cheeks spread across the cold
ceramic bathtub.
Feel as they burn,
water rushing,
covering,
rising.
A dam breaking,
being set free.
That grip on your throat
evaporates.
Along with that awful conversation,
and all of the awkward interactions.
Responsibilities,
obstacles,
released with an exhale.
Purified,
as they’re boiled.
As the numbing, steaming
water covers your legs,
it all dissipates into nothingness.
Relieved, they are,
from the pressures
of sustaining
your vessel.
Feel, as they are released of
all of the clenching.
As they are recharged from
transporting you to the
top
of the Mountain.
The one you so often believe
your eyes will never see.
Reach to your feet,
your connections to the Earth.
How they keep you upright,
even when you are convinced
I can’t keep doing this.
Reach to them,
wrap them with your fingers.
Give them the caress
you yearn from everyone else.
As the water rises,
feel the warmth in your belly.
Look for that hollow feeling,
and spread your hands around it.
As though you can hold it,
with your bare palms.
It’s like water, running away –
Evanescent.
Rub your skin,
acknowledge that space
behind your navel
that nourisher.
Sometimes neglected,
misfed,
judged,
punished.
Acknowledge its toil.
Feel as the water covers your
breasts.
Often hidden,
but in this moment exposed
in warmth.
Standing upright,
Ripe,
reminding you
You are alive.
Lay down your head,
fall back, give it a rest.
Let the warmth envelop your neck,
often bent.
Let the warmth envelop your jaw,
often clenched.
Let the warmth envelop your lips,
often pursed.
Let the warmth envelop your nose,
often stuffed.
Let the warmth envelop your lids,
often strained.
Every inch of your vessel,
enveloped in warmth.
And for the first time,
you can really feel it;
touch it,
hear it,
taste it,
smell it,
See it.
Freedom,
at last.