While hiking
towards ancient ruins
I communicate
with my body.
Asking first a question:
are you made of everything?
It answers
with sympathetic coy:
no and yes
yes, because:
I am of the origin of things.
I am made from the same thing that
all things are made of.
but . . .
(it takes its time to have a breath)
no, because:
I am only a part of everything,
I am only in part, of all things.
I am that part which you see
as part of everything.
I tell it to walk, after it had shortly rest, for a moment set still.
I tell it to place my feet in the sand next to the stones.
I tell it to keep my knees soft and bendy.
I tell it to let my other limbs be relaxed but in a state of ready.
I tell it to twist the spine evenly and rhythm my tail to infinity.
It tells me that I've a toe which refuses to unstiffen.
It tells me that I've a disturbed knee (the toe is the origin).
It tells me one hip has a muscle thinly held; its former fibers eroded to a valley.
It tells me that my back is overdeveloped by specific tasks recurring constantly.
It tells me to twist the spine evenly and rhythm my tail to eternity.
Though it is deep night
across my vision is a flash of light
and my gaze is drawn to where
I saw a reflection; then and there.
Polished metal! I thought I saw! An ornament hung! Or worn by a girl!
I am reminded then, with whispers from my bones,
I am from a line of ancient ones,
ancient bodies as true as you;
from a time that was then: when beings shared, as communities, as friends, as families
a part
of everything.
here: where they lived
and were a part
of all things.
To my body
I state:
I am glad to be alive,
I know you have your complaints and
I believe the more time I spend with you
the better I learn to use you.
My body states:
I am in the physical reality,
I will take you where you can take me but
you must remember that I am only temporary.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
This poem is continued here: http://www.ryanfalco.com/with-my-body.html