I am round, heavy
with sound dwelling unexpressed
in my bronze bowl self,
a singing bowl of Tibetan birth,
prized only by ones who know
me—know the way
to stroke the slow and steady
thrum around inside
my rim, around and round
until I hum
the world harmonious
deep within your being,
upward, downward,
waves of sound expanding
with each circle—
sound into sound
surrounding home until
the strokes can end
and I can sing
and ring and gently hum
then slowly bow
to silence, resonant
with sound
— Helen Laurence
