Sometimes I forget I have a body,
forget that I require maintenance
beyond the intellectual, closer to the everyday;
forget that I am not some luminous being
sustained by brainpower alone.
Sometimes I forget to take a moment,
forget to breathe and sleep and eat well,
forget that I don’t have to be busy
to be fulfilled, that life is more
than organised chaos and overfull to-do lists,
more than the grunt-work behind ambition.
Sometimes I forget I love bedtime stories,
forget I love the quiet moments,
and the way sunlight dapples through leaves;
forget to enjoy sounds for their own sake,
that not everything must feed a creative project.
Sometimes I forget that I am human,
brain and body intertwined and symbiotic;
forget that I can’t churn through
hundreds of tasks without recharging,
that I wasn’t designed to, because I am not some machine
but a child of God: a creator in their image;
sometimes I forget that though I create, I am human.