Cellular Empathy Poem by Alla Bozarth

“In my dumb way, I’ve got a kind of a cute idea.”
James Gleason in The Falcon Takes Over,1942.

What would happen if, within a body,
the separately thinking parts affirmed
a deeper solidarity in order to create
benefit to all parts, and help for those in need?

What would happen if the mind said,
“Try on this thought:
We, the Parts of these United States
which constitute our being,
in Order to form a more perfect Union,
establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility,
provide for the common defense,
promote the general Welfare and secure
the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves
and our Posterity, do ordain and establish
this Constitution for the United States of the Body,
Spirit, Heartmind and Soul—”?

Do not concern yourselves with grammatical correctness,
nor the fact of logic that nothing can be more perfect than perfect,
for what’s needed now is precisely that~ Having come to stasis,
we must move beyond into a state of being that will be
much more than perfect, overflowing in its powers
of self-transcendence.

First let the parts talk to each other.
Let there be mutual respect and recognition.
Then a little comforting casual conversation
to begin the relaxed mood necessary
for really good things to happen.

Then, let them tell each other what they need,
if they are well enough to speak, and deeply hear
the meaning beneath the need, as well as
the need beneath the meaning.
Let the well cells of the arm move outwardly
by their intentional imagination of good will,
to reach the ravaged cells in the broken bones
of the leg. Let the mind of the cells put compassion
into action. Let their primary act be to feel forward
into the future when all shall be well, and at the same time
to draw that future into the present, and give it
to those distressed cells in most need.
Let them comfort and console those hurt cells
by listening to the full onslaught of their suffering,
and then, quietly stroking the brow of each cell
as if it were a total being unto itself,
release and rub off some of their own wellness
onto it {not losing but increasing their own},
re-teach it to know it’s merely a small part
of an immense netting, a community that wants
restoring by means of communication and cell-deep communion,
and that by such means comes its mending.

Mending may not create anything resembling original forms.
Mending may be an art work in process, joining
many designs into something ultimately New.
Mending may require separation and the formation
of secure bonding in unusual places and junctions.
Mending may not be the wished-for miracle
but one that will open the doors of the heart anew.
And that miracle will be lasting, able to accommodate
whatever changes may come. Do you consent?
Shall we concur? Breathe deeply, sigh out completely,
and let it begin to be done.



This poem is in the book Learning to Dance in Limbo
by Alla Renée Bozarth, copyright 2011.
All rights reserved