Muscle memory
I cut up my plaster cast and buried it deep into the earth.
Mystics say if you offer pain to the natural world, it will heal
what’s left behind. I prayed out loud when the wind howled
and rain cleansed me of grief. Now it seems my fall at dance
was a sign to stop, slow down, listen to leaves sing, feel the loss
of mum passing. After my bones were fixed and metal removed
I felt alive again. I drove my car in a different direction. I walked
over the ridge at Oxley Bank Wood, heard Andy Goldsworthy
speak to ice and leaf mould, loved the way he used sheep-shit
and blood to work his art on canvas. I listened to the ancients,
felt breath move through my lungs again. Going East instead of
West changed the way I moved my fingers and wrist, it taught me
muscle memory of belonging, how chambers of my heart open
to let new blood move around under skin.
Penny Sharman is a published poet, photographer, artist and therapist. She is inspired by wild natural landscapes Penny has an MA in Creative Writing from Edge Hill University and has many poems published in magazines. Penny is Co Editor of Obsessed with Pipework Poetry Magazine. Penny’s published books can be purchased from her website pennysharman.co.uk