I start today
At the end.
Because in the end,
Our bodies alone
Are what remind us
That we are a part of this world. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. The phoenix rises
Soaring, gliding, breathing life.
Of course the body keeps score.
Our stories lie, written in our veins.
Movement is how we read them.
So I ask you – would you call yourself well-read? Movement is how we listen
How we remember
How we untangle
How we transcend.
Your muscles tense as you remember That time when….
A glimpse. And then it’s gone.
A glimpse at a time. No more, no less. “Do you feel safe to share?”
Quickly hidden – a veil drawn.
The body remembers. Does the mind seek to forget?
The body moves; the mind goes still. The mind sees; the body reacts.
The body tenses; and the mind recalls. The mind relaxes; the body exhales.
Like a falling leaf; like hitting a wall;
Like a ship in a storm; like a rising sun;
Like the lid being shut; like I’m pulled apart; Like a bird’s first flight; like a warm embrace. The language of the body is all around. Shhhh… Are you listening?
“Where do you feel it in your body?”
I don’t know…It’s everywhere.
I feel it everywhere. It’s a knowing.
“And what does this knowing want you to know?” It’s telling me…I’ve got your back.
I am with you. Until your last breath. Move with me now.
By Niharica Shah,
The art piece has been created in response to the poem by Niharica Shah ©NiharicaShah/IADMT2020