Meditation No 9 Poem by Sheena Blackhall

I do not jeer at squirrels
Or peel frogs out of their jumpsuits

I do not throw stones at angels
Sitting mythical and coy
On the white limousines of their clouds

I do not have the effrontery
To scratch the faces of pianos

I do not argue with mountains
In matters of philosophy they know best

I do not purse Corinthian columns
Those icons of the permissive society

Instead, I immerse myself in silence
In the white sweep of the nothing that is the breath