THE BODY REMEMBERS

THE BODY REMEMBERS

The body remembers every last insult,
Every little ache and pain,
The body holds tight to its breast,
Every last pouring down of rain.

The body in memory takes great pride,
In remembering its painful circular ride,
Its crazy Tilt-a-Whirl through time,
The body remembers its old mistakes,
Each misdemeanor and each petty crime,
The many false starts and the many bad breaks.

Luckily, the body can be dealt a glancing blow,
When paused in meditation to remember the Soul,
For the Great I am, the great blank slate,
Patiently sits and patiently waits,
For the body to wear out and weep itself to sleep.

The soul remembers it was here before,
Comforts the body in all of its uproar,
Stills each storm clutched still warm.
In the body's stern embrace.
The soul throws cold water in the body's face,
Stuns it into submission,
Forgives its sins of omission.
Lives to be the body's fortress,
Its cool, detached defender,
Holds it close, so sweet and tender,
Until its sorrow and regrets,
The body soon forgets.

Then, alas, when the body's through,
And sheds its skin of woe is me,
The soul reclines on a grassy incline,
Lives on forever content to be,
What the body could not see.

On that hill the soul it thrives,
Looking inward, still alive,
The stone of death rolled away,
Forgotten in the light of day.

-Bruce Potts
Copyright 2015
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED