I Will Remember

Written during a Bali writing retreat in 2023 — a way of remembering what that place opened in me.

I will remember the stillness.
I will remember darkness as it dropped unannounced each evening
and the gentle, slow, subtle ripple of light in the morning
as it peaked through the bright green leaves outside my window.

I will remember the women chattering and laughing in the afternoon
as they worked their magic in the kitchen.

I will remember the little lizard with the yellow back
baking in the sunshine.

I will remember the women whose hands eased the knots in my neck.

I will remember the graceful women who dressed us in Balinese sarongs,
white tops and colourful sashes,
and taught us to stitch together a basket
to fill with flowers for an offering.

I will remember walking in line to the temple with our offerings
and the honour of receiving a blessing.
I will remember the priest — his serene face,
his toothless smile,
his still body.

I will remember the silky taste of the fresh water.

I will remember the Rat
who kindly took time away from me.

I will remember the taste and texture
of the fresh, delicious food in my mouth.

I will remember feeling my body stretch and bend every morning
and connect to the rhythm of its breath in the evenings.

I will remember listening to the motorbikes
as they came up the hill in the morning
as we did our downward dogs.

I will remember how my muscles loosen and expand
when my body slows down,
how my mind feels when it is quiet and clear,
how my breath feels when I reconnect and honour it.

I will remember how warm my body feels when it gets a hug,
how nourished it feels when it sleeps uninterrupted for hours,
how alive it feels as the water gushes over it in the waterfall.

I will remember to trust myself,
to listen to myself
and to give myself time —
time that is always there,
most often just hidden by the clutter of life.

I will remember the gorgeous man
who took us on the walk
and named every plant and tree.

I will remember the breeze
that danced over my arms in the evening as I slept.

I will remember walking down the stone steps
with the little lights marking my path.

I will remember the joy of writing with others,
the joy of having time for myself to write.

I will remember all of you —
your courage, your compassion, your kindness, your creativity,
your humour, your wounds, your words, your faces, your honesty,
your curiosity and wisdom.

I will remember to feel gratitude.