
First lie in it.
Close your eyes.
Let it move through you.
Rock your shoulders back and forth.
Dig your heels in.
Slow your breath.
Curl forward and wash
your hands with it.
Pour it slowly on your legs.
Rub your heels deeper
into the damp.
Bury your toes.
Roll back, eyes shut.
Disappear into it.
Listen to the scratchings, then listen,
listen to the roar.
This poem originally appeared in Communion by Pat Mora (Houston: Arte Publico Press, 1991). Used by permission of the publisher.
Pat Mora (b. 1942) is an award-winning poet and author of books for adults, teens, and children. A former teacher and university administrator, in 1996 she founded Children’s Day, Book Day (El Día de los Niños, el Día de los Libros), a year-long initiative to cultivate “bookjoy” in kids nationwide, culminating on April 30. Recurring subjects in Mora’s writing include nature, family, folktales, and her Mexican American heritage. She lives in Santa Fe, New Mexico.
Beautiful visceral poem & accompanying art. Thank you!
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Wow, that was really beautiful. Thank you. We don’t know how debilitating distraction is until the waking moments in which we let it go.
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