If I bend back, I can wrap myself
around the space between me and you
and see where we have been
the winding trail of bread crumbs
that pecks through darkening wood
the scraps of fairy tale

I can chase my tail–and catch

seeping through fingers and toes
into the stretch of matted earth
that spans my roots and pulls me in
even as it launches me toward sky
and the uncertainty of letting go

just to flex nearly forgotten muscle
that aches to climb, oh

yes, if I arch and press
my abdomen up my pelvis low
my sacrum down and into ground zero
I can feel the length of me unwind
reach out my feelers spread wide to catch
the scent of song again.

There is sound in every sense
and as I bridge the gap between
child and warrior I lunge
into new asana my pivot point
a vector that moves me even
as I feel the blood burn and stir

a lotus flower in the laughter
of living breath living truth living I am
living me and as my limbs tremble
on inhalation I hold release and fold

then sprout
as the tree falls in the forest,
listen, hear

and look forward again.

-Christina Dendy

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