By Malinda Meadows
Still feeling your arms
around me at the hospital
The pinnacle of empathy
Which you’ve shown in spades
But pain made by little things
Small facts of consequence
News of the titan, Narcissus
Come to my ears
And then traipse away
While wounded men make play of life
And say I love love love you
But forget that I hunger too
For oneness most of all.
For a pall mall, for an embrace
A kiss upon the face
To wipe away the sadness in my eyes
That happened when my dad
made me realize
I will die.
My mortality. .
Time is finite for our plans.
We must cling to what matters most
Not peripheral demand
Poems of the yantra 