The body remembers.

The body remembers what the mind forgets.

It carries the echoes of every unspoken thing.

I stretch my fingers, and they recall the weight

of hands that once held me,

of prayers whispered into the dark.

*

I walk, and my bones ache with old stories,

with names I have not spoken in years.

Even silence has a shape, a pulse.

Even forgetting leaves fingerprints on the floor.