Embodied – a poem by Kellie Brown

Embodied

My hands
trace jagged wall seams,
grope bulky curtain folds.

My feet
prod loose floorboards,
nudge worn furniture.

My eyes
scan packed bookshelves,
peer within dark wardrobes.

My nostrils
sniff dank cellar air,
inhale musty attic dust.

My face
peeks through dense hedges,
lingers on a mirrored reflection.

I am searching for
a secret passageway,
a veiled threshold, 
a forgotten alcove.

I seek fantastical places where
a trellis ascends to a magical garden,
a labyrinth opens to a bountiful orchard,
a litany leads a weary soul to solace.

Dr. Kellie Brown is a violinist, conductor, music educator, and award-winning writer of the book The Sound of Hope: Music as Solace, Resistance and Salvation during the Holocaust and World War II. Her words have appeared in Galway Review, Earth & Altar, Ekstasis, Psaltery & Lyre, Still, The Primer, Writerly, and others. More information about her and her writing can be found at www.kelliedbrown.com.