Weekend Retreat

 
 
         A couple times ago when I was here
         I wrote a poem which I have since forgotten.
         It mentioned a pond and lotuses, silence and meditation.
         We sat solid under a tiny circus tent,
         as our guru played our chakras on his ancient sitar.
         Then he talked a bit about our life
         and our being one with mother earth.
         He spoke of our bodies as water and empty space
         that vibrate, resonate to waves of sound,
         sounds that can produce harmony or its opposite.
         Ragas are specific to times of day as are we.
         Eight periods of three hours, each with its own music.
         The teacher said there is no space between now
         and tomorrow. Then he played his sitar and we sat,
         trying to be still, but bothered by the biting flies.
         After that we broke for lunch
         and I wrote that poem I mentioned.
 
 
 
 

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Ken Hebson

KEN HEBSON hit the road in the mid-sixties, taught in Spain, did Europe by motorcycle, drove from Morocco to Egypt in a VW bus, and hitched and hiked as far as Kabul. He has lived and worked in Venezuela, Portugal, Mexico and Japan. A chapbook, South from Istanbul, will be published by Green River Press this spring.

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• Weekend Retreat - June 2, 2013