Movement in Time ~ 30th April – 2nd May 2016 ~ Poetry Emma
Moving in Time
I feel no impulse to move. I am still.
I lie on my back, knees bent.
I feel in my tissues a porous but dense spongey resilience but I don’t move.
I need this rest to recover. Seeping into the floor, resting.
I see my left hand slowly reaching over my head.
My left rib lifts off the ground
And my left finger tips slowly move over my head.
Delicately they are extending from my porous weighted arm, wrapped in skin,
Taking their time to tip over head towards the ground.
I watch them and I am touched by the delicate tendril of fingers moving in time.
Hearing the birds sing outside.
Then I find my left leg reaching out straight from my hip.
But the reach is with a slow resilience from hip to toes,
From rib to tips of fingers.
Slow, still, it happens by itself, no rushing,
Just tissues expanding into space and time.
1st of May 2016
I feel no impulse to move. I am still.
I lie on my back, knees bent.
I feel in my tissues a porous but dense spongey resilience but I don’t move.
I need this rest to recover. Seeping into the floor, resting.
I see my left hand slowly reaching over my head.
My left rib lifts off the ground
And my left finger tips slowly move over my head.
Delicately they are extending from my porous weighted arm, wrapped in skin,
Taking their time to tip over head towards the ground.
I watch them and I am touched by the delicate tendril of fingers moving in time.
Hearing the birds sing outside.
Then I find my left leg reaching out straight from my hip.
But the reach is with a slow resilience from hip to toes,
From rib to tips of fingers.
Slow, still, it happens by itself, no rushing,
Just tissues expanding into space and time.
1st of May 2016