"Namaste"
Don’t be troubled that
I want to split you open
and decant you into my palms
and sip you, all of you.
Why do you whisper
these flecks and dots
when I see
mountain-sky
and I hear
thunder-wind
when I gaze and gaze
at you.
Don’t look away --
I am open,
I am scared,
so tell me you,
your stories
of agony, of light,
of pet rabbits
murdered by
the neighbor’s dog.
Show your
exquisite scratches
and welts,
show the green
shoots of your heart,
sing what aches
to burst from your
cells.
Yes,
Yes,
Namaste, my friend,
Namaste, dear one,
“The divinity in Me
BOWS
to the divinity in You.”
"Namaste" first published in Here Comes Everyone
Notes: This word is everywhere these days, and not just at the end of yoga class. It's emblazoned on totebags and t-shirts ("Namastay in bed") and sung in music and videos. That's all well and good, but I wonder how many people understand its beautiful meaning: "The divinity in me bows to the divinity in you."
In this poem, I wanted to pause and examine that greeting. I wanted to consider the magnitude of acknowledging each other's spiritual nature at every human encounter, small and large. Wouldn't such a greeting, mindfully spoken, remind us of the other's basic human dignity? Wouldn't respectful treatment naturally result?