Deep: Diving for Relief

Well the respiratory infection
Or its aftermath
Continues to impose its misery
Upon this mind and body,

Slowing down everything,
Making mincemeat of any plans
Sabotaging every step,
Making my stomach refuse much food,

Doing nothing for my mood,
Which is down and sour,
Well beyond meditation power
Though the metta feels safe,

Also I imagine
Pleasant places I’ve been
While I wait to heal,
And hope to soon have a complete meal.

Getting little done
Except groaning,
All is a struggle
But lying around a bore,

Coughing and nose blowing
Are my main occupations,
Along with dreaming
Of old haunts calling to me:

Sitting in a backyard,
Watching the tomato plants grow
On a hot summer’s morning,
Enjoying the view

And from somewhere in my mind
The plants say,
“We remember you,”
And I feel supported somehow.