Something stirs.
How does it do that?
Is it a thought?
Or a feeling?
I listen.
Not the external kind.
I’ve switched on that sense
of listening
and connected it
to a feeling
that tracks inside.
I loosen my upright shoulders.
Allow myself to relax
into my heightened attention
and notice more keenly.
My head feels separate
from the trunk of my body,
like a satellite
beaming down a light.
It,
my head,
is exploring the lower levels
noting tension
and encouraging release.
The shoulders relax again
as they are noticed,
but then creep back up
as they are passed by.
I’m inhabiting a landscape
inside of me.
Not a literal landscape.
That’s organs, muscles and bones.
This is a metaphorical landscape
inside of me.
How do I know that?
It’s like shutters opening and closing.
Perception of what is
an immediate sense of myself,
in this moment,
sitting on a chair,
seeing my external world
and then...
what is
another layer
where I drop
and grope
blindly
for something...
How do I explain this?
Images arrive.
Words.
Both
carrying
an idea of
this known
but unseen territory.
“What time are you going to the cinema?”
My husband’s voice.
“What?”
And the external
Shifts
Back
Just
Like
That.