I Tell You

I could not predict the fullness
of the day. How it was enough
to stand alone without help
in the green yard at dawn.

How two geese would spin out
of the ochre sun opening my spine,
curling my head up to the sky
in an arc I took for granted.

And the lilac bush by the red
brick wall flooding the air
with its purple weight of beauty?
How it made my body swoon,

brought my arms to reach for it
without even thinking.


In class today a Dutch woman split
in two by a stroke — one branch
of her body a petrified silence,
walked leaning on her husband

to the treatment table while we
the unimpaired looked on with envy.
How he dignified her wobble,
beheld her deformation, untied her

shoe, removed the brace that stakes
her weaknesses. How he cradled
her down in his arms to the table
smoothing her hair as if they were

alone in their bed. I tell you—
his smile would have made you weep.


At twilight I visit my garden
where the peonies are about to burst.

Some days there will be more
flowers than the vase can hold.

Susan Glassmeyer

Sometimes Kundalini itself brings us such moments of joy and transcendence. It is then that we feel our cells dance, and we see the "beauty beneath the beauty." It is then that every pebble sparkles, and the mundane world lights up with the beauty of the sublime. At those times we "see with saint's eyes" and know that we are blessed.