… the light grows and so does the wonder
of having a form,
a body, this very body,
we are made to be particular –
The littlest in the family clings upright in my arms – smiling wide-eyed as he watches oupa climbing the steps. And I watch too – through his eyes…eyes following every step, every climb – up – waiting for feet, hands, and eyes heaving towards him… a little frown creases his look, creases into a smile when oupa greets him, “Hallo pokkel!”
Outstretched hands grip the rails
– a balancing act
Out weighing the struggle
– a body bent forth
one foot placed askew
the other follow
no muscles for this job
only pure will power
I wonder – what does he see? What does the frown say? What do I see? Why do I look away?
Now I understand:
Our bodies tell a story. They tell our stories – how we treasure or do not treasure the gift of them.
And I know, the little one sees the gift.