Secret Language

Every part of you is a secret language.
Eye, mouth, chin,
shoulder, elbow, hand
all speak,
all sing.
Together, you are a symphony.

Imagine what your hips would say
to those who will learn
and listen.

The first line of this is from a Rumi poem called Having Nothing” and translated by Coleman Barks. It needs work, but I like the idea of where this might go.

NaPoWriMo #4

Is there a word for
that feeling
in the back of the throat
a heaviness,
a contraction;
or the prickling feeling
around the eyes
just before they
rim with unshed tears,
that comes when
something so lovely
and so sad
unfolds?
What word encompasses
those visceral reactions
to one’s psyche?
Descartes, what were you thinking?