How small they take up so much space
To begin with, I released heaviness, floating.
Afraid of a virus, I open myself up to other disasters.
Scaly skin and swollen, tightening joints.
One day, I will be unable to move my fingers.
How true, that all will be swollen and still.
We all carry flame and tension inside us.
Our bodies woven webs not built fortresses.
The tell, the tingle of life in the soles of our feet.
Head to toe, inhabiting porous, traitorous bodies.
Feelings move through, whether we attend to them or not.
We can be everything or not depending on whose attention comes.
Come now, asking: “Who serves us and who do we serve?”
To this end, "We all ought to stretch in our 50s whether we call it yoga or not.”
Relax your tight and fidgety shoulders. Squeeze the old breath from your lungs.
Chew on the inside of your cheek, afraid and unconvinced,
Asking: “Is my throat sore, this morning? Should I be concerned?”
Comments
Post a Comment