Bodies Speak Quietly

Do you know your own

self?

Really.

Do you?

Do you know the length of the hair on your legs right now?

without looking. Tell me.

Could you tell me what your favourite book is?

How about when you were five?

How about last

year?

How old were you when you first noticed your

body.

Really.

When did you first look at it, notice the object

that carries you from room to room?

When did you began picking it

apart?

Begin tracing the invisible lines across it where

you’d take the knife if given the chance?

If I asked you to name three places on your body

where you have a freckle,

specific ones, could you?

How long can you hold your breath?

When was the last time you tasted the iron of

blood in your mouth?

We know the sensations,

the energies

the emotions and

complexities of life,

but those are all given to us by the flesh we lie

with every night.

I often feel as though I get sick,

at just the right times,

my earthside parts calling me in to tell me a

secret that only a few days in bed will allow for.

I honestly believe our

selves know us,

much more than we know them.

Bodies speak quietly.

So we’ve got to learn to listen.