Inhale… Exhale: a poem
In writing this poem, Matilda O’Callaghan was inspired by the practice of yoga in the Cambridge University Botanical Garden

So many hours spent typing;
Plastic keys spawn empty words,
Though maybe with them all,
I might just save the world.
But each line leaves exhaustion;
I seek comfort in synthetic fibres,
Their softness hiding the way.
Really, only inhales satisfy.
Trapped by roots of success
I twist into any bloom,
I was meant to be, but
Coloured petals never last.
Yet now I stand in mountain –
I feel the river begin to flow,
The moss on rocks grow,
All my weeds begin to show.
I realise in this warrior,
Stretching out fingertips,
That my limbs do shake;
Not fake, but strong again.
As it all exists in cycles,
The falling of the sky
Basks ablaze in orange light,
Disappearing into whiteness.
Each balance calls to an edge:
A wobble, a change, a seed,
To ground up down to earth again,
To listen to breath all around.
I feel the exhale leave me
And with it, ending silence of trees,
The creaks, the moans, the aches,
Find peace on the flowered mat.
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