Jill Bolte Taylor's Stroke of Insight

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Sunday, May 10, 2015

The Ancients

Everything's got soul
that's what they believed
mineral, vegetable, animal
wind and rain
stars and planets and comets tracking the heavens
everything, alive and soulful.

The earth's got soul
it screams when we kill its children
hoarse by now with its clogged veins
sucked dry by progress;
still it gives back music ancient ears can hear
and they move to it, groove to it
bringers of the first beat
singers of the first songs.

My hands've got soul
they speak of what I do
knuckles marked with callouses
from healing not from hurting
one hand scarred from the time
I stuck a knife through it
nicking bone and tendon
and the nerve that speaks constantly
of everything it can't feel: we all make mistakes
but still, it's got soul.

You've got soul
ancient eyes in a young face
what do you see when you look in the mirror?
I see you.
Do the thing you came here for
stop killing yourself
listen to what the heavens are saying
your hands've already learned about love
now let them teach you.



KB 5/2015



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