Dear Spirit Guide,
I am
Skin, flesh, fat, bones, filth
Fragments of body, reduced to simmer
Took stock of my soul but the shelves were bare.
Meanwhile, the credit card is bloated
stuffed with the weight of new clothes
New shoes
New booze
New ways to pinch money and watch it bruise
My feet are calloused
From carrying all of the possessions
my body uses to protect herself with.
Annamaya Kosha
A shell constructed of protein, carbs, and fat
To weight down the balloon spirit.
The humble solar soul-
Keeps a tidy home within the deteriorating body
Sweeps the floor while she waits for her call
And rises up when our flesh finally falls
You tell yourself it’s just a body
That wrinkles, giggles, and mingles.
And it’s just a body
To laugh at and adore
That it’s just a body
to tuck under dirt-
Lay your head down
and hide under mother’s skirt.
The soil will pack over
and the trees grow stronger.
Spoiled Annamaya Koshas pout-
Erupt in tantrums fueled by doubt
“I don’t wanna die!”
She holds on to her favorite bodies
And screams that they will live forever too.
Without a spirit to guide her home
The body is lost to the world.
Why is it easier to stake claim in this predictable darkness?
To buy swells of worldly comforts
Drown in empty possession
And say I am happy now-
Than find peace in the promise of enlightenment
The great circadian rhythm of life and death
Dear Lady Spirit,
I met you for the first time today.
Thirty years- and you never introduced yourself?
To be fair, I haven’t looked Up lately
I wrapped my body in an iceberg stare-
Titanic sunk under thick anxious layers
You plunged in to save me,
drenching your midnight locks with icy splashes of my fear
Thrust out your hands and broke through to the clear
Clung to my foot and gripped my left hand
Declared victory and wrangled my lost soul back onto her land
The great mother
Herds her children back home.
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