Zazen
A Meditational Poem — Life in a Zen Buddhist Village

In the morning, the villagers practice zazen — In the fields, by the well, on the front porch For one hour, they sit and breathe The silence overtakes the camp like a thick woolen blanket I too succumb to zazen Soon all resume their morning duties, Gathering fish by the pond, carrying vegetables from the garden The making of rice — All done to the rhythm of breathing The entire camp has succumbed to zazen I go about my own duties, the scrubbing of the temple floor moving the brush in slow methodical patterns Up and down, timed to my breathing I am becoming zazen Evening comes and a hush settles slowly over the small camp Only the sound of nocturnal creatures can be heard Along with the final breathing — We are all zazen
©2020 Lori Carlson. All Rights Reserved.
Zazen is called “sitting meditation” in the Zen Buddhism tradition. As you sit, you time your breathing, and eventually your mind clears and you do not even think about breathing. Breathing just IS.
In this poem, I have tried to gather the essence of this village and its inhabitants. They do everything in a natural flow, just like breathing. After spending many days with them, I too began to do Zazen in the mornings and saw my daily routine slow to my breathing and flow naturally. It was a beautiful journey.
If you enjoyed this poem, please consider this:
Lori Carlson writes poetry, fiction, articles and personal essays. Most of her topics are centered around Relationships, Spirituality, Life Lessons, Mental Health, and the LGBTQ+ community. She currently writes for Loose Words, Illumination, The Friday Fix, House of Haiku, Know Thyself, Heal Thyself, The Purple Pen, Blue Insights, and a Few Words.






