After I had cut off my hands
and grown new onessomething my former hands had longed for
came and asked to be rocked.After my plucked out eyes
had withered, and new ones grownsomething my former eyes had wept for
came asking to be pitied.
Denise Levertov, “Intrusion” (via learningfromthehands)
Man, sometimes it really does feel like this, doesn’t it?