Compassion Meditation

Compassion Meditation


Sshh, quiet, there is a Meditator sitting here.
See? Back straight, legs folded into a lotus,
Hands in a mudra of compassion, she’s weeping.

Eyes open looking around she sees
People in the classroom meditating with the teacher,
Each form vibrating against a background which
Vibrates against a background forever into forever,

Can you hear that? Moans of mothers merge,
With crying babies, dried up breasts, hungry bellies
tied in gurgling knots,
while their men kill each other and in turn themselves.
The Meditator cleanses the earth with her tears.

In her head there’s a whisper, “This is not me.”
Absorbing into mantra excluding and including
Humming each inhalation and just breathing.
She vibrates the center of a pool rippling outward.

To be awakened, enlightened, an illusive dream
which usually feels lifetimes away.
Is she closer than before? Is there any change at all?
If there are dues to pay did she pay enough?
Will the next life be better?

She meditates through pain, fear, and insecurity
Compassion for her own ignorance, frailties and loneliness
Praying for illumination assured it will be okay.
Compassion is a soft pillow with an embrace named Now.

rk