The Holding


The secret lies where we least expect it to, in the curve of our hips and the sigh of our muscles

Each movement a key into a door where a thousand memories hide and if we move and breathe in just the right away, we might start to feel a shift

A belief we’ve held onto for far too long springs free and because we grow used to holidng holding holding, we grip tighter for the fear of setting it free to the unknown

(For who are we if we aren’t that?)

This week has been a space of work for my body and i; sweat, curious shapes and poetic words led to the discovery of a goldmine of pain I thought I had long ago said goodbye to and as each sensation memory surfaced, I realized how carefully I had buried my stuff, deep in my tissues attached to my bones

I know the way is through getting quiet so everything can get loud and in this body and heart, a self-contained storm rages on

And soon it will be time to coax my fingers free of that which weighs me down

So that I can rest before the next storm


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