A Real Home We Have in the Body (Emma Skogstad)

In the center the most tender is.
Silent weeping, softness,
children sleeping, baby bird—
everything that is unwinged and woundable
is curled up deep under
the iron bars of ribcage.
This gentle place young is,
and timeless and without face it is.

We, believing ourselves homeless, forget.
We rush about and stiffen
to protect and hide
from others, from ourselves,
we in our turtle shells,
hunched back or chest puffed out:
it’s all the same.
It’s all protection of
this most vulnerable,
this most tender.

But the center is where
stars shine, where
we are guided
to each other, where
if we are most brave,
if we have been most harmed,
we know indestructible we are.

To meet each other tentatively
most in this tender place:
we save each other;
we save the world.