I don’t know what’s
sore, tight, knotted
until it’s touched.
I carry this tension:
neck and shoulders
middle of my back
sacrum
unaware, distracted by
cicadas, a playful breeze,
my monkey mind.
A start, a tensing,
a pulling back,
a breath, as deep
tissue resists,
then yields, releases.
Come, invisible hands.
If only my heart and soul
could be loosened like this.
3 comments:
I like, I know how ya feel
I think this is my favorite one for the month.
Thanks, Chad and Pam. Was wondering if the last stanza was telling too much.
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