Here it is,
Eight thousand years later, and I still remember.
From
“Looking at the Stars,” by Robert Bly
How much is stored in the
memory of our bodies?
I wonder what I’ve carried
for thousands of years, unconsciously,
events of ancient times
that have shaped who I am.
When I look at the full
moon, or watch the sun rise
what is triggered in my
being,
how many sunrises are
stored within?
What wildness lies deep in
my DNA, at the core of my identity?
When I walk through the
forest am I bridging
gaps in my soul, traveling
neural pathways
ancient as earth itself?
What, finally, will I know
of myself
when I come to the end of
knowing?
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