Stuck Inside a Skull

A poem

Photo by NeONBRAND on Unsplash

When I meditate,
I close my eyes
and wait for the mantra
to come to me.
It usually pulsates
on the right side
of my forehead.

It’s an ever-shifting point,
this maddening verbiage
of transcendent relief,
so I can move it around
my big old head — picture
words behind a nose.

If I had to find a metaphor
to please your inner poet,
I’d say it’s a bit like the laser pen
you waved around mercilessly
on the back of your teacher’s head
in 1992. It’s not really a metaphor,
I know, but I liked it.

As far as I’m aware,
Buddha didn’t talk about
the journey towards nirvana
starting in your chin.
So, maybe it’s just me
stuck inside a skull,
looking out at the world
like a bonehead.