The body doesn’t lie

I see you.
I know what’s going on, but I’m not psychic.
The body doesn’t lie.

The burden has been so heavy for so long that you have forgotten that you hold it. You arrive to escape, but the weight is still there. You don’t need me, you need yourself, but yourself is hidden under layers. Every sound is amplified. Every movement you make judges you. Every breath scratches your skin. Conflict is held in the corners of your eyes. Conflict is held with the set of your jaw. Conflict is held in the at the base of your neck.
The body doesn’t lie.

There is no way to go back, but you try. You want to fly down the road like you did when you were 18 years old but you were always pushing yourself never stopping and time has left its imprint. The hand stays fisted. The jaw remains locked. The shoulders are bunched. It is your natural way of being. The word “relax” makes no sense.
The body doesn’t lie.

Something must be done, so you find yourself here. With a sideways look, you put down your mat in a spot to the back in a corner where no one will notice that you don’t know what you are doing. The chest hollows and the eyes don’t make contact. There is a rising tension inside the belly. Every second seems forever, and you cannot be here, you must escape. You run out before savasana.
The body doesn’t lie.

Then it happens. Perhaps after that class, or the next week, or the next year. Something has changed. Something has shifted deep inside. Your arms swing when you walk. Your breath is deep. Your gaze is open.

I see you. I’m so happy for you.
The body doesn’t lie.