I am under a bridge (1)I am under a bridge. Darkness. Liquid black. I am dancing. My body is water. Graceful. Fluid. Racing. I hear; I feel music, a riverbed in which my movements flow, carved by cadence- the cadence of music, the cadence of nature. I move with everything, and everything moves– transitions, dies, is born anew– bound by change. The truth is temporary, but my chest is open. I dance until my toes are blistered, until I am dripping with sweat, smiling with exhaustion. Expression. Prana. Moving. My body is coyote. Wild. Howling. Stealthy. Every twirl, my eyes are dizzied with wonder. I finger paint blue down my body in thick stripes. Warrior. Play. I try to know myself better in these quiet spaces. I kneel before stars, out of breath, singing, laughing and crying. Release. My body is child. Small. Absorbing. Stars, hold me. Mother, teach me. My knees, my dress, my blistered toes, sink into the mud. I think of all the sleeping people, the disconnected people– the lonely people. I think of the times when I’ve walked with eyes closed, mistaken approval for connection, or tried to satiate animal hunger with  media feed. A beetle crawls over my leg. I, too, have a shell. You do not know me, I say, begging the moon I never lose my inner-child.