A poem by Madhuri…
…in response to an invitation by a columnist in the local paper for people to send in descriptions of their favorite old comfy comforting chair.
Square – cut as a loaf of bread
Cushiony and thick –
beside an open window
where air flows in –
And just near my right cheek
A potted geranium offers a red flower
And the leaves smell delicate
As a young girl.
The chair is quite new
I’m still impressed by this –
And had to off-gas before I would sit in it.
That took a month or two –
But now, three years hence,
My throne is innocent of formaldehyde
And the wide room it inhabits is clear and clean.
We live so sedately, Himself and I
The chair and its matching couch
Sit spiffy as anything
Night and day, and we mostly sit
In others of our many rooms.
But there are times
When I Sit here of a morning
And go inside the Citadel, the charmed castle
Of my Interior Blessing.
Nobody bothers me
And I can commune with Those
Who twirl near like sage ballerinas
Awaiting my words and askings.
Where I can rest in Nothing-Much
And watch the Joyous open itself
Without hurry or real concern for time.
On the phone
Where it sits on a little spindly table
My legs outreaching on the stout ottoman
Which is like its parent chair.
I speak of arcane charts, I cast cards;
And all the time my antennae are awake
And turning like radar and
My heart is the reason for all of it,
Happy in this endeavor,
Happy to give and flow and beam its
Woken-up surprise at giving.
Thank you for my chair,
Oh beautiful man who gave it me –
Thank you for this stout, modernly-hefty,
Chair in which I am a small creature
Propped and cradled well –
A half-old fairy in a gold leaf,
A pebble in the mouth of a happy frog,
A tongue in a lily.
Poem by Madhuri, May 28, 2012