I am Spirals and Lines

 

Finally, 

this white birch is me.

Breath alone wasn’t enough to sustain harmony or poise in tree-pose.

I Wiggled and I wobbled—- grimaced

Over and over.

I tipped and toppled.

Deep in frustration I harshly judged my inadequacy to stand upright on one leg.

Until one insignificant afternoon,

I, with my slow, resolved drumbeat of breath.

A Heart full of anger at inability,

looked for help outside myself.

(Pissed at my limited resources to be perfect)

More of a search than a look.

I saw several birches.

Inside a single tall birch stood--surrounded.

A fierce wind (with power to draw in a storm)

tossed all but the one inside the others.

Imagination drew my attention

To this strong, firm, unbendable birch.

It became me.

I stood alone, steady in my endurance.

I felt a surge of tree cells spiral up my leg.

My breath followed effortlessly.

Black and white spirals and lines became etched along my skin.

Power and stability.

Around and up from the roots.

Balance took on a force.

Strength. Worth. Capability.

I did not yield.

I stretched up through the storm.

Through the unsteady ones whose flails and whips

 couple topple me with them.

I don’t deny pain or struggle to become.

But transform all of its power to find balance.

Not perfection.

My mind and shoulders settle into tree-pose.

Ahhhhhh.