A poem about hot yoga

Tree pose is my favorite

in the midst of heat and sweat

after falling or feeling faint

of slipping and searching for an end in sight.

I will always get up for tree pose

balanced on one leg is the only way I’m stable

through shaking and doubt

I will always balance

my roots are strong in the ground

even though I sway.

Some days in hot yoga

I am strong like a goddess

I breathe and move correctly

sweating like a champion

feeling like the yoga princesses of Instagram

like the woman who goes every day

in her matching lululemon

looking like a young woman

but only up close do you see less of her youth.

Some days I am faint

and my body doesn’t listen,

even when I can’t tell what’s wrong

and I lie on my mat defeated

in a puddle of my miserable sweat

but I still stand up for tree pose


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