It is nighttime,
and the music of crickets
melds with the obscenities flowing out of my neighbor’s mouth.
Summer in Baltimore.
My body is tired,
and the whirr of my essential oil diffuser lulls me.
A cloud of frankincense and myrrh codistillate,
of lemon, neroli, and Eucalyptus globulus
perfumes my tiny room with the scent of heaven.
Fulfilled by the simple things,
grateful for this moment,
I remember that this is the only moment.
My mind wants to create so much,
to write, to express, to be meaningful.
My body reminds me how I’m not getting enough rest.
Caught between the heaviness of fatigue
and the fire of transformation,
what’s a yogini to do,
but sniff the essential oils and try to stay awake?