Slowly but surely,
choose to move your skeleton.
Clothe it in stitches
of skin, and flesh, and sinew.
Dance to music
that echoes off your bones,
and don’t let your skull
or ribcage stay empty.
You’ll start out
without love,
or wonder,
or rhythm.
Soon, they begin to find their way
deep into your marrow,
and if you’re lucky,
every fiber of your being.
Slowly but surely,
you’ll learn
what it is to laugh,
and cry,
and feel compassion.
It is not your new lips,
or fingers,
or toes that make you human.
No,
it is something intangible.
Your hair might be black,
or brown,
or blonde,
or white,
or perhaps short lived.
It may be long and straight,
or tight, little curls,
or wavy,
or dry as winter wheat,
but as you come
into the fullness of your being,
it becomes obvious
that your body is only temporary.
All these things
you clothed your skeleton with
exist only for a short time.
Slowly,
but surely,
we return
back to our bones,
and only our memories
entertain us,
until these too
become fleeting,
like ghosts in the shadows
of a hall.
All we have left
is how much we loved,
and how much we moved
through this strange,
erratic place.
How we kept our frame
dressed and maintained
means less and less
in the big scheme of things.
But how we laughed,
and how we danced,
will echo forever.
DJR – 2023
