He could not sit still,
not even for ten minutes—
the hallway dim-lit and echoing,
the yoga students beyond the door
silent in relaxation mode
rows of closed-eyes-no-movement.
Out popped the cell phone
neat magic trick, all thumbs.
Who was he in the silence, anyway?
She did not enjoy the retreat-
no talking, little eye contact.
Just a day,
walk the labyrinth,
sway with qigong,
hike the forest path,
or form a little statue out of clay—
she took me outside and asked
almost in tears
“Who am I when I am not speaking?”
I have no answers for either of them.
But both are wonders.