The old muscles complain, we all say,
but they, as it happens, are among
the many things that need stretching,

especially at the end of a year that
has required our hearts to resist
the urge to contract as we witness

such hard-heartedness among those
we had hoped might find their
Grinch-y hearts expanding.

And so we must stretch and stretch
again to keep supple that which
tends to tense at news of such

hateful acts, such meanness. So
we extend a leg and bend, trying
to loosen the tight hips,

unkink the knotted muscles
caressing our spines, rise on our
toes to strengthen the calves,

and gently, so gently, tilt our
heads to one side and roll them
slowly, so slowly, listening

to the crackle-pops of our
loosening infrastructure,
hoping to release stuck spots,

sending deep exhales of
compassion into these bodies
of ours, and into the world

at large, with great helpings
of lovingkindness, our own
tiny bit of resistance.

•••

(for Shelley Burns and the exercising women with thanks and love)