Yoga Class West Concord Mass

Sunday Morning Yoga class with John


The bending, the hanging,

departure of the clanging,



The mind in a hurry

waiting for the jury,

all that you bury

is going to rise.


Tears from your eyes

the bucket of  “my’s”

contempory lies,

no surprise.


Open your hands

depart the boarder lands

the body’s strands

relaxing demands.



Let go of your head,

practice being dead,

make way for surrender,

abandon the pretender.


Arrogance and pride

can no longer hide,

wash it from your face,

join the human race.



The ankles, the wrists, the knees, the pelvis,

what sticks in bending places

likes to swim around.


Blossom out your heart

reveal Mozart

commence a new start.



The teacher’s voice talking

round the room he’s walking

“Wash your body clean.”

What does he mean?


The yoga scene.

a kirtan dream.

the tunes unwinding

the twists unbinding.


The breathing steady

emptiness is ready

to make the tree pose.


Eyes stay closed

the velvet is yours,



Upside down

silence goes to town

finally you’re here.

Omnipresent fear,

“Sold” by the auctioneer.


Savor the meal,

this is the deal,

the dealer

is leaving.


On your orange mat

spun out flat,

remember the ember,

the membership is free.



-Jill Goldman-Callahan