Perhaps the oldest language is the one spoken by the body to its conscious inhabitant. And all that is needed to understand it, is a willingness to listen. To habitually ignore or purposefully misconstrue what the body says causes an unnecessary battle that cannot be won. The body speaks only the truth, and cannot be fooled. Its memory, moreover, is perfect. And yet, at every turn, its kindness is revealed. Until finally, pushed to the edge by neglect or abuse, it says, Let us die, then. We have done what we can. Let us become food and fuel for what we can only imagine.
October 19, 2021
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Categories: New Poems & Pieces
Tags: Aging, Body Language, Consciousness, Death, Diaries, Habit, Imagination, Journals, Kindness, Listening, Memory, Truth