The poetry of the body by Elena López

by Vicente Dolz in guest-post - 8 months ago

The poetry of the body by Elena López

by Vicente Dolz in guest-post - 8 months ago
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How a palace transforms into a body.  



Straight lines. Tensions held in stillness.  

Beams of wood.  

Centuries-old stones. Translucent glass in the windows. Forged iron grilles.   

Wood in the floors, doors and shutters. Reflections and shadows sliding

through the cracks

in the opening and closing.   

The creak of that door.

A squeak of the window and a

“sit here” –

so I can gaze.  







Go out in the courtyard. Breathe.  

Where one straight line ends, a curve begins.

One leads to the other and

the other leads to the one:

there is no tension anymore.  

The green of the grass softens the gray of the stone.  

The black of the railings soothed by the rust of the pergola.  

The treetop is now a shaft that sounds like the sea,

when the breeze blows.  

Close your eyes.

Look inside.



Protective wrapping. Flexible membrane.

Porous sponge that filters and absorbs:  

The rampart.  

Permeable in its battlements, where one can look

without being seen.

Welcoming hollows for swallows to nest. A parapet to stroll, to flow, for contemplate?  

Attentive. Silent. Firm.

Sensitive. Defender. Caring.  

It caresses and allows itself to be touched.  


How the body is our palace.  


Through the rooms of this palace, we seek answers… to what we do not understand. Questions and nonsense, fine as they are, that our reason drives us to weave

and unweave.  

It pushes the walls of the city to change shape, colour, thickness and width.  

It knocks, insistently, on the metal door that echoes

and does not open.  

It tries the thousand and one possibilities of being and existing.  

It searches for the tune, the light and the right angle

for the perfect moment.   

But it doesn't





Do you see that door over there,

the large one,

the wooden one?

Smell the faint light that glows when it opens.

Listen as something inside moves

with the certainty of knowing what it wants.

It's coming out.  




Open the eyes of your skin and your taste, 

your sense of smell and your ears    

to inhabit your wood, your stone, your metal, your grass,   

your tree, your wall.  

 Your palace.