THE QUIET OF THE BONES
Bone is quiet
But bones hear everything
From their vantage point inside the body
Protected from the ravages of the outside world.
Ultra-violet light, wind, cold
Drumbeats, snatches of conversation
It all breaks through the silence within the flesh.
With no understanding for the force of energy
A reverberation outwardly
That is inwardly received
You wonder one day why the barometer has dropped.
You can't imagine running wild
Through the dark forest alone
Into the sounds of insects and bird calls
With wet dripping overhead
And something scurrying in the underbrush
Thinking about the eyes that watch you
The noses that smell you
What ears are hearing you
Or how afraid they may be
Of the woman who dares to run
Boldly through the woods at night alone.
So you offer yourself something to be done early
In the light of day
Which gets you to bed on time
Keeps you safe in the house with the doors locked
Bed covers tucked up to your chin
The myth of the woods remaining
A child's good night tale
With Goldilocks staying home
And Little Red Riding Hood
Never leaving her bed
But if you dredge up the courage to go
It's a good idea to take some equipment
You never know what you may find
When you look into the quiet of the bones.