…of my corporeal body

I once believed my body was mine
but now I know that I am just a vessel
my skin stretched taut over the secret chambers
of my bones and my memories
and deep inside of me, my heart murmurs its longing
for something, even I don’t know
if I breathe deeply enough and whisper often enough
to the wind that circles wild and free, it might catch a piece of me
a brief moment of release
from the heavy weight of my corporeal body
from the endless pain of my crumbling bones
and my own dark thoughts
I empathise with the trees, their deep roots are their shackles
their falling leaves their only release
I stand silent amongst them
imagining my body as bark and my tears as leaves
my soul weeping, for their tragic loss
my lifeblood slowly rising like smoke into the air
I have no outline, I have no shadow
yet I can still touch everything I can see
there are nights when I find my shadow sleeping beside me
it’s slow exhales, mirroring mine, I reach for it, and it stirs
half wanting to awaken, half wanting to retain its form
for we are both exiles from the same body
that has become too small for all that we carry
the weight of our dreams, a longing for silence, an ache to be seen
I ask it, softly ‘where will we go when our light dies?’
and it answers ‘we were never light only the absence of light
trying to remember what it felt like to be whole’
and so, together we rise, through the soft ethers of the night
not dying, but not alive, just less defined, less human
for fading is a freedom that we finally learned to love
© Ann Bagnall