The Knowing

The Knowing

Down in my bones I feel,

deeply, the stir of truth –

lighter than a pinprick, 

fainter than a whisper, 

easy to miss or ignore;

not so much a voice

as an echo,

not so much a ripple 

as a shiver,

lasting a moment only

unless I stop

and pay attention –

when it responds,

rising, swelling, 

making a murmur

and finally filling

my whole body:

lifting my arm, my hand,

moving my legs and feet,

speaking through my throat

with the resonance

of the absolute,

the clarity

of a slicing knife,

the directness of the heart.

Written in response to Weekly Scribblings #50: 'Down In My Bones' at Poets and Storytellers United.