Vox Populi
A curated webspace for Poetry, Politics, and Nature with over 20,000 daily subscribers and over 8,000 archived posts.
James Crews: Meditation Class
I paused in the rain outside the storefront,
though there was no sign, only the image
of a lotus on the steamed-over window.
Inside, rows of people crouched on cushions,
eyes closed, their legs folded beneath them.
Some were mouthing what I took to be
a mantra, a few words in Sanskrit meant
to make them hum as one with the universe.
I wiped the fog from the glass and saw
a statue of the Buddha on a shelf, laughing
at himself, laughing at me standing there
in a puddle, under a pine tree that kept
dripping on my head, keeping perfect time
with my heartbeat. The night seemed to slow
the longer I watched those students going
nowhere and doing nothing together—
until there were no more worries about
the rent, no sick parents or ex-boyfriends.
Only a car passing by on the slick street,
the sound of something being torn in two.
~~~~
James Crews is the recipient of the Prairie Schooner Prize and Cowles Prize. His writing has been featured in The New York Times Magazine, The New Republic, Ploughshares, and Sun Magazine.
Copyright 2024 James Crews. From Unlocking the Heart by James Crews (Simon & Schuster, 2024).
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Thank you, James Crews (and Michael) for the solace this poem brings today.
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Isn’t James great? I love his gentle wisdom.
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James’s work is great solace in these troubling times.
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Indeed it is.
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Crews brings us wonder. I love the slick street, with the torn in two sound as the poem ends. It somehow recalls a lovely thought of his, from another of James’s poems:
Open your hand and trust
whatever lands there, however
small it may seem at first. (The Wonder of Small Things)
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Thanks, Jim. I love those lines as well.
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The quiet of this poem is lovely. And that ending! Ah!
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Yes, the poem is quiet until the end. Something is tearing in the speaker and in the world.
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going nowhere and doing nothing together … how beautifully you invite us into that communion ❤️
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As I prepare to meditate on line at home, I remember sitting with others in the mountains, the desert, and in a zendo. There is a difference. I remember once in Seattle…
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What a very fine poem James! It reminds me of the place we had breakfast, Joe Browns Diner, yesterday in Vancouver Washington’s Old downtown. Another hermetic space enclosed by a bright sunshiny day in this case that made the inside dark cornered and as my seat faced out, full of a blinding light. It promised on the outside window sign, “A step back in time,” and has been fulfilling that notion a long time.” These spaces we keep somehow amid this world’s grand petry!
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Sorry—my mistake: “Poetry!”
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I thought you had been trying to write petri, as in this world’s grand petri dish. haha. Always love your comments, Sean.
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How perfect, Michael, that you posted a poem by James Crews today: he and Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer (whose beautiful poems you also publish) read in Santa Barbara last night in a reading series that I host — and we spoke of you with great affection! So this fine poem by James on VP today is the perfect continuation of his and Rosemerry’s visit, their kindness, talent, heart & *your* generosity!!
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Thank you, Laure-Anne. I certainly appreciate praise from three such wonderful poets! So sorry that apocalyptic weather kept me from visiting you and your reading series two years ago…
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