Mornings I sit, facing the wall
within silence but for birds.
It is a practice I observe
after rising to meet the day.

Before me, the wall in dull paint
yet it is my past and future I see
streaming by as if in a parade
until I breathe and see again the wall.

They've all gone before me
who've sat facing the wall -
Buddha, Jesus, Francis, Julian.
What did they see when in mornings they woke?
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Portland, Oregon - August 2, 2022