embodiment poetry – Soul Communing

connecting with one’s soul, and through that, all that is

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I Am Home

They taught me to be alone
That my reflected eyes
Know how to hold me in compassion
Through the cool glass of a mirror

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Into the Marrow Down into the marrow Where the bones bleed And the blood is born The boiling cauldron Of body memory This is not a grave Or an epitaph Inscribed on A skeletal cross This is the piercing Of thorns Growing from the Thicket of my Arching ribs This is the embrace Of tendril vines Growing from the Scooped melon of my Ripe pelvis Living the words Unwritten And unspeakable As they slice Into the immediacy of Each second In heartbeat In breath The body is born That the soul might live The stories Of penetrating And encompassing Joys and sorrows All at once In every moment This is what it is To be alive To feel

Into the Marrow

Down into the marrow
Where the bones bleed
And the blood is born
The boiling cauldron

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