Girl in the Ribcage

Photo by Diego Rosa on Unsplash

I am having a tremendous week. And most of the tremendousness is happening internally. Lots of shifting and opening and really exhausting awareness. The best thing, though, is remembering 8-year-old me, when I first started to write stories and poems.

It’s a comfortable space there,

tucked behind my lower left ribs —

so much more room than the other side

where my liver is always in the way —

You can see everything from there, and feel safe.

You heard that these bones are healthy,

unlikely to break.

The problem, little one,

is acoustics.

I can’t hear you from there.

You’re drowned out by the noise of my lungs and heart.

Nothing for it but to step forward,

plant yourself in the soft open space of my belly,

use all the resonance of the body there,

and speak.