atmosphere

Chi Gung

we stand still, legs apart, feet forward,
hands held up, palms inward,
and we breathe as if we are mountains,
we breathe as if we are geological

skin swollen and mind pushed out to the walls
fingers the size of trees and legs of black iron
legs like sea volcanos growing and steaming
we are the continent of ourselves

with our eyes closed we become the room
we push into each other's space and breathe each other
we don't think of it as strange
we don't suffocate or panic or cry

and if our arms burn or our legs shake
we don't feel sorry for ourselves
we don't wonder why we are here
isn't it strange that we don't wonder