Somajna
The Wisdom of Our Body
Poetry, the language of the soul
"Out beyond ideas of rightdoing and wrongdoing, there is a field. I will meet you there."
- Rumi
Poetry is born in the stillness of presence. As the most creative inheritance of language, it has the ability to speak universal truths through our everyday experience. Poetry can cut through the noise of our overwhelming world and create moments of silence, where we can finally meet ourselves.
And in that moment, we can become the poet's curious question.
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Sometimes
Sometimes the world meets you
with an innocuous looking event
like an apple falling off a cart
or a girl extending her hand
and
you ignore it.
Only to be presented with it again
and again until
you ask an innocuous question
of the world being the way it is
Why?
How come?
And in that moment
of asking a simple question
you open a hidden doorway
that reveals your own
deepest secrets lovingly buried
under your calculating, practical brain.
Makes you wonder how
such a pesky, trivial phenomenon
can be this sinister plot to expose you
Like the perfect ambush
you cannot escape from
without dying all over again.
Bridge
alone on the bridge they become one
shaking hands, holding hearts
open arms, sharing sight
resting in calm surrender
while observing the heavens
~ Nick Abel
The Lonely Tree
You see the other trees in full blossom
Resplendent in their fragrance and hue
Offering the world their unique gifts
From the shiny pinnacle of their fulfilment
And then you look at yourself
A masterpiece of well-intentioned desperation
Trying hard all your life and still
Searching for that elusive flowering moment
When your grieving heart stops
It can witness the unfolding Spectacle and
All your learned insight can finally
find light through a tiny opening
The opening to feel who you are
And arrive into this world, again
Armed with the passport of radical belonging
Proudly declaring what you always were, a bird.
Little Boy Learning
As night falls like a warm blanket,
Renewed by the Sun as daylight fades,
Releasing the heavens to an early Harvest Moon,
Like the last high note of a final encore,
It rises through the sky,
‘O magical Moon, that shines so bright,
Bring me dreams that light my way,
Through the darkest nights,
Along the path that walks the Child,
Through the ancient forest’…
The fire burns with fierce flame,
Before allowing itself time to breath,
Settling, content,
As the child-like flicker,
Makes way for the gentle glow of surety,
Before falling into drowsy retreat,
From the last burning embers.
‘O magical Fire that burns so bright,
See my light as I walk through your gentle flame of passion,
See my Heart as it heals the wound that once was scorched,
As I search inside your warmth,
And welcome the comfort of night with open arms’…
The little boy finds solace in the arms of me,
In quiet retreat of the hiding Sun,
As memories drift and dance across my sky,
Of moments once held true,
That find no reason, no home.
‘O Father, where do I go now,
Where does this moment lead me,
And how does this child begin to know me,
For I too am but a child’…
I see his Heart, yearning to be touched,
Open like a new flower.
I hear his voice, yearning to be heard,
Like a stranger in a crowded room.
I feel his tears as they long to be free,
To find a path to my cheek.
I touch his fear as he asks of me,
To love him....
Outside the world is silent,
For it knows not how the child feels,
Now awake from lengthy slumber.
~ Nick Abel
Sunbird
I was awakened by a sound
On a dull, grey monsoon morning.
Through the petering
of the last raindrops dripping
off the open-mouthed leaves,
a distinctive knocking sound
Knock…knock.. knock
Knock….
Knock….. knock
A sunbird in my balcony.
Tinier than a sparrow,
with its hickory-brown wings
carrying its canary white body
in a furtive circling dance,
hesitantly presenting
its purple-black rump
The source of the sound
its black, scythe-like beak
pecking away
at the one-sided mirror glass
of my balcony door
in a rhythm
that was slightly
out of time
with the trickling beat
of the overnight rain.
A jazz drummer’s cadence
As I watched from the inside,
the bird kept circling
between the railing and the glass
in a nervous,
yet exalted flight.
Triggered all over its tiny self
by the astonishing sight
of its own
reflection
Back and forth it went,
between the rain-soaked glass
and its temporary perch
in what seemed
like a secret,
forbidden act
of kissing
its own self
As I observed, I realized
this was a practiced ritual
of announcing to the world
the simple joy
of meeting oneself
at the stroke of a new dawn.
To be alive is to be reborn every day
and to declare to your reflection
that you are
a sunbird.
Especially, if
it’s a rainy day.
Ocean
I close my eyes and I see the ocean
white-tipped waves in synchronous motion
rising as if they were ordained immortal,
then meeting the sandy ground, humbled;
in cycles, as long as the ocean breathes.
Called by the open arms of the horizon
you run, then walk to the water’s edge
stopping dead at the place where you encounter,
the truth of the dissolving ground
and the nature of your own trepidation.
Standing at the ocean’s threshold,
an exalting sense of having almost made it
yet, digging firm into the salt-licked sand,
seeking emancipation with mouse-like feet
from the ocean who shrugs and retreats
Sometimes, when all roads seem to lead
to the same place in your troubled mind,
you look to the ocean, the clouds, and mountains
for that single seed of divine inspiration
and leave just before, the answer could germinate.
If you can slow your breath and wait
you can see how you are like the waves.
Striving, yet destined to rise with the ocean
oblivious to the alchemy of any passing breeze,
intricately shaping the very soul of the ocean.
What the ocean asks is for you to abandon
your cherished romance with certainty.
To wholeheartedly embrace your next choice
is to become one with the ocean within
and triumphantly journey to the beach that awaits.
Somajna Verses
Every once in a while when we choose to disconnect from the busyness of our head and drop into our body, we get reconnected to our true essence.
When we do that, our body has a way of revealing some surprising, yet obvious truths about who we are and what we're witnessing.
Somajna verses are born in these moments. Please feel free to use, share and add to them.
