I would drive my foot into the ground, sending up sparks of dust.
I would send my leg back long, digging the ball of my foot into old, recycled life.
And I'll bend into my front leg, feeling the force of gravity being conquered by the force of my own body.
I'll sink into the ground, letting it rise up towards me. I'll lift from the center and draw my shoulders toward my hips.
Fingers sweep the sky, releasing tense and broken energy.
Heart turns high, chest pressing upwards. Back softens towards my thigh, releasing into the curve of a wave.
My front body will open, making space for new energy, new hope, new movement.
I'll let my head fall back and let my throat open to the sky.
Don't shift. Don't let go. Not yet.
Stay vulnerable, open, broken.
More than just creation moves to heal me.
More than just the posture speaks to my deep, beating soul.
This is holy. It is certain. It is intentional.
My lungs press out of my chest, filling with air and expanding beyond my body.
They draw inward, pressing out air and growing small.
Life moves in this rhythm.
Life ebbs and flows.