Talking to My Body

In this conversation
we begin at my feet
in the big toe
like it was the sun
at the center
of the universe
and all the little toes
planets circling
with a toenail for a moon.

Gather them in the growing darkness
like the beginning of a dream
that never ends
and place them gently
between the humming of the heart
and the glowing light of reason.

What meditation
would be complete
without the whispering mind
hoping to distract you
with a simple game of fate
like Rock, Paper, Scissors--
like Children, Lover, Daily Bread--
before you can bring the breath
to the bones of an ankle?

She is quieted
by the librarian's hush
of the nose inhaling coolness,
exhaling slightly warmer relief
from thinking.

Thinking about the color of the sky
or the tingle at the back of the neck--
but thinking then
about dropping the body
through the feet,
legs dissolving--
running out the bottom of the hourglass
until the buttocks and belly are focused--
the fire connected with the spirit.

Red cords longing to untie themselves,
release the body all together,
take flight from the chest and arms,
rising and falling at the evening knowledge--

waves of the voice calling,
singing to the third eye,
roots in the air--

the crown lifts to the stars
and we connect again
with the sun in the toes.

Thinking again of escape
from all knowing,
all temptation to talk to the stranger
who will require simple kindness.

Suddenly breathe
and fall into the depths
of silence.

Nothing is promised.
Nothing left behind.
Nothing to discover,
but the true self
across the table
as if sitting down
for tea.