My body has spent years in hibernation.
I have slept the sleep of bears, and had their winter dreams.
Of roots sprouting
Flowers reaching, turning pale heads to the sun, to unfold.
Do bears hear sounds in their dreams?
My body has heard a cacophony of birds, torrents of rain, thunderous hooves overhead.
Fearful, it slumbered.
My body has ached in sleep with remembrance of other lives.
Of leaping off docks into cool lake water. Of toes and fingers rejoicing in sand, dirt, and grass, a glory of sensation.
Where it loved another’s skin, and was loved.
Afraid, I slept on.
The possibility of endless night was there – I chose, finally, to uncurl
To end the dormancy, the trance of avoidance.
To stretch towards the sun, and bloom.