Everything matters
The hand massaging the knee
The exhaled air punctuating a forever childish crawl
The generosities of a sun without frame of mind
The accuracy of the tension, soothing while untying each vertebra
The hands massaging the vegetable skins that will feed me
The point of arrival of the run
The hand massaging the head and fingering the hair
The tea
Everything must take the force of a ritual
I must become a ritual for my flesh
Effect of a ceremony in memory of my survival
Devoted care of the mother I owe to my perplex body
I apply myself with the zeal of an anchorite nun
My resurrection awaits me
It waits for the poorly rooted certainty of my faith.

May 2015