Mindfulness Poem by Edward Clapham

Mindfulness
Mindfulness is being in the moment, with the past
A dim memorial and the future ripe anticipation;
Without investment of self in uncertainty and "when I…",
Just living life in the now.

I read the book of recipes and am drawn
Into its world of pungency, lost in imagined tastes;
And I linger at this altar of sensual delight,
And am mindful.

A glass of Riesling sits close by, cold, crisp,
With subtle oiliness hinting at future promise;
Its acidity bites at my tongue as I imagine
Lemons in Greece might do.

Fragrant prose makes my nose twitch, as though some
Herb, roughly chopped to embrace the warmth of spice,
Is thrown into the bubbling pot to lure the hungry,
And I think of you.

The spell of the moment is broken by your
Presence, uninvited and unwanted but irresistible,
An imagining, without form, that brings emptiness, longing,
The elements of grief.

Why do you do this, Madame, why do you
Not leave me to be at peace with my present?
Why do you intrude, when you have been silent
This long while?

I want to be with you, or rid of you;
There is no compromise, I cannot be an acquaintance;
There is no possibility of a hint of love, like
A hint of chilli.

I imagine inside your mind, where I have no
Place, no presence; I am forgotten, like a withered
Posy, whose scent is as dust and adds nothing
To our pleasure.

And I live in this moment, dissolved in
My emotions, swept up in thinking, and wonder
When it will end and you no longer disturb
My present.

The ascetic monk reminds me of the impermanence
Of all things, and the unhealthy possession you have
Of my thoughts and feelings, putting my happiness
at your command.

Miserere mei: soaring notes wash my mind clean, no
Thoughts or emotions can find space in this reverberant
Cathedral of penitence; transient music that lives forever,
Unlike that pure treble.

I am again mindful and you slip behind the
Curtain of music, an actor quitting the stage,
Your speech done, the plot carried forward
To its end.