To *breathe* free-
ly for *hours* a-
lone while the *rain*
falls or the *witch*
sleeps and the
*muscles*
ease and they
*settling* like
leaves.

Know it
*long* sown, that
old *love* owned in
a *dream* breaks up-
on *laughter*
rocks to the
*moon* full
over *bowed* back
over *split* tree.
And only the yogi
of tears
weeps.

Shake the *nights* free.

Open.

Sort the pieces which *net.*

When the horses sleep,
all our love names still *fit.*

And the words which still play
by our rivers, in
beds, while we *like* to
see *birds* as they *rippling*
in *waves*
over *lawns*
over *railroad-tracks*,
pause.

Even on those sweaty afternoons--
coffee-strained, hard-backed, florescent, (late)--
escaped, beneath premature street lights,
we *may find* old friends,
shy, sweet in sharp relief,
suddenly un-lost;
guess their faces half known,
touch their lives taking shapes--
in the hollows and knots
in the loneliest bones
in the secrets and promises kept--
patterns do emerge, as hidden heated pools beneath flesh do. And made
connections. Innocence:

This husked, ripened dusk
tastes almost familiar.

---by Karen Sosnoski

NOTES:
I thought of this poem, "Grateful for second chances" as I was recalling images from recent dreams.

Of particular meaning to me is the image of the "weeping yogi." I had seen a small carving of a weeping yogi in a shop near my home. I had been attracted to it and held it for a moment, trying to figure out what exactly it was. All I knew was that it looked like a man curled up in a fetal position. I felt somehow sorry for and fond of this little figure and contemplated buying it but didn't.

That night I had a dream that I was sneaking into a friend's room to borrow something while she was on vacation. To my surprise, I saw in her room thousands of carvings of figures which I realized upon waking were the figures I'd seen in the store. Along with these figures, she had carved thousands of letter "As."

I was shocked and positively impressed by her diligence and moved by the time that she, a very social person, must have spent alone to accomplish this work. I thought to myself, "I underestimated her." I identify with aspects of my friend's personality, so this realization that she had hidden resources of self reliance and motivation struck me as a positive sign for me as well.

When I woke up for several days I felt a feeling of deep peace and happiness which is unusual for me because I tend to worry easily. I went back to the shop where I'd seen the little carving and asked the storekeeper about its meaning. When I told her my dream, she handed me a card that read, "Weeping yogi: hold him in your hand and he'll take away your grief." I bought one for the friend in the dream and one for myself. I feel that the dream and the poem are about the relief which I've discovered upon realizing that if no person or relationship is perfect, we usually get more than one chance to express the good, the positive energy, even the innocence that out of fear or distrust many of us tend to keep hidden even from ourselves. -KS