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Three Line Lunch: Sitting Through

a yearlong diary in three-line poems by Jeff Rogers, day 191

Sitting Through (Morning Meditation Struggles)

Only breath, like waves moving onto the sand and receding, only that. But muscles
Between shoulder blades seize rope tight and burn, and waves of failure crash over me:
I will never. I can’t. I throw my head back and yell: “Goddam it!” But I sit through.