The Body Remembers the Stars

"The Body Remembers the Stars"

(original poem for you)


Somewhere beneath the breath,
before the name,
before the first word rises
to the tongue—
there is a knowing.

Not of facts,
but of returning.

The bones remember it—
the way light fell in another life,
the slow turning
of an unseen wheel.

Every cell leans
toward something it cannot speak:
a presence,
a pattern,
a music made of distance.

You walk through your day
carrying a shadow
that is not your own,
but older.
Older than form,
older than fear.
A shadow cast by starlight
on the first morning
of breath.

And what is it
that guides you—
not forward,
but deeper?

The hand on the doorknob.
The pause before sleep.
The ache that has no injury.
The silence that listens back.

You are not lost.
You are being asked
to remember
what could never be forgotten.