Your spine curves as you move through the water:
What does your skin sense of your surroundings?
What does it know of your own heartbeat and blood?
What does it know of the creatures passing nearby?

How close to the surface do you dare to swim?
How is your view of the beyond distorted by the surface?

How deep will you go?
Have you ever touched bottom?

Can you reach a shore in your lifetime?
Or do you circle the same smooth path, returning on the hour?
What do you remember?

What can eat you?

Are you alone? Alone in a crowd?
Are you pulled against the current by a love of something?

If you relax, where will the current take you?
What will be waiting for you?


Consider the generational knowlege
of the cells of your body.

When this impermanent constellation falls apart,
where will each bit of your mind find a new residence?

Consider your left palm:
What has it held, what has it lost?
Where will this wisdom create a new home?

Consider the curve of your right breast:
What sensations has it endured? What sensations has it relished?
What will these memories nourish now?

Consider the muscles that pull
from the base of your skull towards your shoulders:
What was the source of the unpleasant feelings
that drew you into such tight, unstable grasping –
and made you, in those moments,
What brought pleasure back to your body?

What part of your body will move into the shadows of the forest floor?
What wisdom will it share there – with whom,
and what good will come of it?