I realized I have been afraid of meditation
my whole life, which is to say,
I have been afraid of myself my whole life,
which is to say, my whole life
I have been afraid of the anti-silence
of my thoughts, which is to say,
I have not been myself my whole life,
which is to say I’m sorry, which is
to say my whole life has been oh, I’m so
sorry, which is to say don’t meditate,
just apologize—don’t worry, just be
worried all the time, every day
for your entire life that you, your heart,
is broken, like an engine,
like a wine glass, it won’t
work right, can’t love right, but tonight
in yoga, I realized for the first time
that breathing is not the process of being filled
and emptied: breathing is the act
of actually making love to the whole world,
which is to say the world is
your lover, which is to say love the whole
world, in all its sweaty folds
and scabbed pockmarks, which is to say
love your dirty corners, your
stalk-like legs and barrel hips, love all
the no and the no and the no
that brought you right here, to this moment
and love the yes. The yes:
the breath that found its way to you, built
a home in your blood cells,
changed itself to better suit you and for it,
tonight, you say: I was made to
breathe and move and give, which is to say
love. Love. I was made to love.
…
Sierra DeMulder is an internationally touring spoken word poet. She is a two-time National Poetry Slam champion, a thrice-published author, and one of the founders of Button Poetry. This past September, DeMulder partnered with poet Tonya Ingram to write a piece for To Write Love on Her Arms in honor of National Suicide Prevention Week. Her most recent book, “Today Means Amen“, is forthcoming this February. Andrews McMeel Publishing has generously agreed to donate $1 per book purchased between now and February 2nd to TWLOHA.
You can preorder Sierra’s book from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, or from your local independent bookstore.
b.e.. noll
Thanks for your poems. They speak of beauty having the last word. They whisper ” hope is alive” & not just a myth. They remind me to write my own.
b.e. noll
Thank you for your poems. They whisper things. Like: “hope is not a myth” “you are lovable as you are, not as you could be”.
They remind me to write my own. (Almost commented in poem form)
C. Dillon
I first heard your words last year at my school’s Poetry Jam. Your friend Giddy played the video of you reading “Today Means Amen,” and I was moved. You have a gift for turning feelings into images that are more true than any adjectives could capture – the “largest tree ring in his heart” line has stayed with me. But this one, with its acceptance of the self and embracing of love, this one opens doors. Your words really make a difference in the worlds I live in, the small ones and the big ones. Which is to say, thank you.