After
a week of training
My
arms want to move themselves
In
the patterns we have established:
My
right hand would like to touch my left,
and
send him on his journey through space.
My
hands are dry now,
not
cupping water to my face,
but
they speak to me,
and
each longs for the embrace of the space,
as
we move in circles,
smaller,
larger,
answering
the movement of hips and spine.
My
shoulders are itchy too,
and
I can hardly stop them from joining their sisters and cousins,
brothers
and uncles,
aunts
and friends,
who
all seem to be saying
that
they've had a night's sleep,
and
won't wait for the music to start.
Sitting
won't do,
and
walking won't either;
they
are all whispering to me,
nodding,
nudging
me,
asking
me to stand up,
and
begin those concentric motions,
maybe
even to hum aloud:
„Dummmm,
Dummmm-dumm-dumm....“
Mimicking
the teacher's voice,
setting
them out on that journey,
which
never really stops,
and
always comes back.
To
a place far away and always near.
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