That sumptuous force that allows me to sit on the hinge of my hip. That keeps me pressed against. That turns my back into a wave that makes me like the ocean to be like the ocean in a body that is gravity that is magic that is the blessing of being alive.
I like to use you,
Gravity.
You hold things together. You make the branches of trees fall open like the vessels of a heart.
But I’m selfish.
I love you because you make me dance.
Because I don’t have to try to fold myself over when bow to you.
You like the worship too.
Thank you for letting me lift my limbs. For pulling them back toward you gently. Thank you for making me everything I am and for letting me be everything I love. For drawing in the air. For hips. For hinges. For folds and joints and long bones that let me push, pull, reach, brush rub, and run,
and fall.
Thank you for falling.
Thank you.
