Meditation Yawns

So, I’m sat in a group, meditating,
The guy next to me yawns.
He squeaks around in his wooden chair,
Pulls his sleeves up,
Rubs his arm,
Yawns again.
More chair squeaks.

And again, a yawn –
Wide, quiet,
But clearly audible,
To me,
Like through headphones,
Air rushing into those two lungs.

His stomach rumbles.
Then, another yawn.
I’m serious,
These yawns are coming,
With mere seconds elapsed in between.
Not minutes.

I’m serious,
It’s serial.

More yawns.
More yawns.
More yawns.

“Karlos,” I think out loudly, “you’re body is telling you something.
If you placed a pen in your hand and gave it free range,
It would write ‘Hey – Karlos! Go home, fall into our over-sized settee,
Or go all the way,
Straight up to bed,
And slee-eep.
Slee-eep.’

Listen to yourself,
Don’t yawn,
Incessantly,
Pleeea-se.”

I’m lacking in compassion,
And joy.
My bad.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.