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Meditation on a Sun-porch in Maine 

by Seth Jani


We disappear, and are bound to our passage
Like hoists in the bulwark of death.
With no eternity to speak of
There are only fruits carefully arranged
On a plate in summer.
There is only the gestures of trees
In ambient light as the sun goes down.
When I think of the body
Under the shelter of dirt In a New England cemetery
I think not of resurrection
But the exquisite delicacy of each day.
The porcelain of time that cracks
And reforms in unexpected jolts.
The near unbearable perfection
Of sitting next to you on a sun-porch in Maine
After a summer of traveling, and the mantra
Spoken softly and intently in the heart:
​This too will pass, this too will pass.
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Seth Jani currently resides in Seattle, WA and is the founder of Seven CirclePress. His work has been published widely in such places as The Coe Review, The Hamilton Stone Review, Hawai`i Pacific Review, Gingerbread House and Gravel. More about him and his work can be found at www.sethjani.com.