Jill Bolte Taylor's Stroke of Insight

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Tuesday, January 6, 2015

I Wrote This for You



I wrote this for you
during a thousand hours with my two hands
pressed against your pain.
You find me, eventually
tired and hurting
your body tight as hardwood
gnarled into shapes you can't escape
no matter which way you push and stretch.
You have forgotten how to walk
how to run
how to breathe
You have forgotten how to fall
into a sleep natural and trusting
as a child rocked next to the beating heart
of someone who loves it--
but you are ready to learn.

You don't see your own perfection
but it is there
I see it
curled like a bud in your belly
your furled palms and corded forearms
the small of your back where it's tight and guarded
the arches of your feet that ache and ache;
perfection is there
I see it.

You belong to you; this beauty is your own
day by day you will stand taller
breathe easier
release the tough coiled ball at your center.
You will not be hard and hurting but pliable and strong
a thing that floats
a body that breathes
a being that knows, loves, believes.

I see you someday, soon, moving with ease
along a crowded sidewalk
a smile curling your lips as you float
from curb to sidewalk to street corner.
Your form is pure grace, strong and light
proud as a tall ship
the breath in your lungs like wind in sails
bellying you onward: now exhale--now inhale--
do you feel the waves pressing you forward?
Can you hear the beating heart of love?


KB
© 1/6/2014

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