“Human presence is a creative and turbulent sacrament, a visible sign of invisible grace”. John O'Donohue

Monday, 26 June 2017

Non Verbal

I have nothing to say.

It makes no sense to me 
to try and place the language of words
around the language of the body.

My body knows, 
but my words 
are either missing 
or completely inadequate 
to describe the depth and subtlety 
of what my body just knows.

I lie and listen 
to my body's rhythm. 
I tune into the pulsing

The touch: 
wanted; unwanted; maybe wanted ( I don't know) 

The nearness 
the distance
the air 
and breath 

And the movement. 
The movement
The delicious flow into relationship 
with space 
and gravity 
and other. 

I can trust this wisdom.

More than the words I hear. 

More than the words I hear
spewing forth from my mouth 
and from the mouths of others. 
Pretty Ugly symbols 
to describe something utterly utterly beyond.
Beyond their power to even begin to make sense of. 

We are so fond of words. 
So fond of words 
to describe 
and categorise
and provoke 
and hurt  
and seduce
and silence. 

Here am I in my irony. 

Here am I 
in the inadequacy of my words. 

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