I start today
At the end.
Because
In the end, our bodies
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 literate?
Movement is how we listen
How we remember
How we untangle.
How we transcend.
Your muscles tense as you remember
the 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 retracts.
The body senses; the mind recalls.
The mind tenses; the body goes still.
Like a falling leaf; like a brick wall;
Like a ship in the storm; like a seedling;
Like the lid shutting; like I’m pulled apart;
Like I’m flying; like I’m held.
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.
Written by: Niharica Shah
The art piece has been created in response to the article by Niharica Shah
©NiharicaShahIADMT2021
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