The Nature of Me (After Aristotle)

Aristotle, Luca Giordano

My skin, easily created from mud, the earth and rain that pools in low places and hides from sun to make life, tadpoles and minnows, possible. My bones, a calcium totem pole that says, Here I stand, There I run, Over by that place I fell, and yet through it all I am here. My face, the moon of day and night, what watches, what refuses to look away, what knows her home as self among the stars. My blood, the river that sustains hills and valleys, how it runs freely and feeds every inch of me. There is no Lewis or Clark who can discover my mystery. My hands, these tools of transformation, how they do what I tell them, their soldier fingers in formation, always at the ready. My breath, the smooth and ragged winds of what goes in and out of me, taking what I need, giving back endlessly, the miraculous moments of abundant being. My toes, the tiny balancing dancers who are the last to kiss the land as I leap up, right or wrong, however I come down, they stay with me and welcome the earth back to my body. Earth, rain, mud, calcium, moon, river, hills, valleys, mystery, winds and dancing, jumping and returning: these are the elements and magical motions that are the nature of me.