Sitting on a cushion

Sitting on a cushion
I tried to find liberation
from loopy thoughts
autopilot patterns
judgements rising like acid
from the stomach
after a badly chosen meal

my skin was on fire
sukhasana became dukhasana
my mocking mind rejected mastery
playing both Tom and Jerry
sometimes hanging from the roof
laughing at me, or a trapeze artist
flying from one thought to another

fidget fidget
scratch scratch
itch itch
ouch ouch
liberation is not for me or
this path to liberation is not for me where
a minute is an hour and an hour a day

I need to walk, I need to run
I need to see the world pass by
I need to sing, I need to hum
I need to laugh out loud
I need to hug, I need to write
I need to feel my feelings
not sit eyes closed, back straight

silently watching the drama within  
just witnessing, just observing
letting the darkness come closer
letting it touch me, letting it hold me
letting it take me deeper into its fold
down pathways I would rather not go
letting me sense the slivers of light

Sitting on a cushion
I tried to find liberation
and lost so here I am
happily lost or a loser
as you will
writing poetry to find my way
writing, to join the dots
between light and darkness.