I slide into the bathtub when the water is hot enough
To turn my feet red and tingly.
I lean back against the porcelain and grab my book from the floor.
I read Annie Dillard and I think that
I have never loved my body as I do now.
This buoyant form, soft, and full of purpose.
From the stars long ago, I inhabit the dust of the universe, and –
I know you have been told this before, but trust me,
Have you heard it?
My energy – the ball of pulses and electricity and light and heat –
My energy was, I hope,
The energy of a Buddhist monk,
Or maybe a Chinese schoolboy,
Or an American factory worker.
Maybe my energy existed in the fingertips of an Inuit fisherman.
I hope one day you feel this.
I hope one day you slide into the tub,
Swim in the sea,
Get out of bed,
And I hope that you feel the energy swirling inside of you,
A hurricane waiting for your permission –
I hope one day you remember,
I hope every day you remember that
You are nothing short of miraculous.