Going to the body
The bodega of a lifetime of detritus
A place where the bumps and bruises, nicks and
bangs
Are hiding
Body knows
Body never forgets
Physical, emotional, mental
It is all packed away in the various
Shelves and corners
Of bones and sinew
Organs and cells
Have you met your hips yet?
Compensatory information filed when
Conscious mind moves on
Going to the body
Making the invitation
Perhaps the specificity of a task
Holds the key
Prana awakens
As we move and breathe
As we make time
Create safe space
Only if we listen, only if we can observe
Perhaps it’s the gesture
Perhaps it’s the fold
Perhaps it’s a mover moving
Perhaps it’s a mover moved
All we have to do is ask
Invite all that unconscious
Material that is concealed
Into the light of
Our own compassionate eyes
Do we reveal the head
While the tail is concealed?
Or do we reveal the tail?
Who can see both sides of the quarter
At the same time?
