The Path for Me?
In the hall are twenty devotees, a terrier
and a mongrel.
A smile greets when I hand in a quiche lorraine
for the potluck meal; blank faces disappoint
when I tell them I've been exploring Theravada.
A volunteer lights incense and candle then invites the bell.
We recite ‘The Community’’s version
of the five precepts. I’m too shy and dodge
my turn; say I’ve forgotten my glasses.
Walking meditation makes me self conscious
and feels strange. After a blessing,
we savour lunch in silence.
Some of us take a walk through the village,
over a bridge, down a lane and back.
As we do so, we talk and talk;
released from silence.
One serene follower sits cross legged
on a mat, peels and eats a banana
before the dharma talk on mindfulness.
After which, I still don't know what it is.
Terry Sherwood lives in Northamptonshire, England. A former painter, his creative outlet is now poetry. His poems have been published in Allegro, Acumen, Orbis, Pennine Platform, The Cannon’s Mouth, The Ekphrastic Review and The Seventh Quarry amongst others.

I enjoyed this poem
LikeLike
This is the kind of experience that I think a lot of people can relate to … shared religious intimacy that makes us nervous.
LikeLike