This body
This body
This Body
This body of knowledge
This body of wisdom
Self-bright prism made of everything we have ever loved
Mystery encoded in flesh and bone
Bound like bread into the great Baker's oven
Stewed in the alchemist's brew
Made of me, made of you, going back to the first Mother
Every cell holding the key to its own freedom
Unlocked by the body's own wisdom
The song of my grandmother's grandmother's grandmother's people
Lost to mind in the hulls of ships and the cracks of whips
The magic of our sacred blood, lost in spun cotton and cheap tranquilizers
The knowingness of our intrinsic interconnectedness
Lost to missionary's book and soldier's blade; all re-membered
Always known in the bodies we finally call home
I call this body home
I ask in the language beyond words for the truth beyond wounds
The reweaving stories, and unwinding muscles all offer the same benediction
We have always been holy, wholly, holey, holy
Always been home
We need only listen
To our bodies of wisdom