Ode to You, Dear Body.

Aug 18

I don’t even need to ask.

You breathe, you feel, you listen.

And I don’t even need to ask.

You digest, you express, you experience.

And I don’t even need to ask.

And if ever I forget, you gently remind me.

With tender aches or subtle stiffness, you romance my mind back into you.

Back home.

Oh, body, this is my ode to you.

You living, breathing, divine orchestra with strings and winds and percussive power.

A heartbeat like a metronome, senses harmonizing into symphony.

You are me and I am yours until our very last breath.

And if ever I forget, you remind me.

When you see beauty through these eyes— wide and welcoming.

When you taste the overtones of earthen depths.

When you feel music so deeply that those tiny bumps rise along your delicate surface.

When you hear the song of the birds, whose intricate flying formation I’d surely have missed, had your noticing not lifted my gaze upward.

I lift my gaze upward

as I craft this ode to you, dear body.

Resilient and forgiving.

Reliant and responsive.

Beautiful and bereft of flaw.

May I meet you each morning in prayer.

In thanks.

In deep recognition for all that you do for me.

For us.

And I don’t even need to ask.

Forgive me for my forgetting, as I commit myself to stewarding your most optimal health from this breath until our last.

Inner Constellations