The Language My Body Speaks Poem by john tiong chunghoo

i live in a higher institution with
the brain of a kindergarten
my body is talking and i cannot even
grasp what it is
its language is a tongue
rolling over my nerves
a desire to get me to cooperate
in its quest for a better self -
but some i understand but most i dont,
such as the sudden rise of the cakra to the tip
of my head and the light that flashes
when my eyes are close
i dont understand a language
when silence is its companion
and only one person can be its audience
a language not spoken
but rattle through the nerves
and imagination

i am a young pupil in this
school of realisation
fitted with two arms
two legs, two eyes,
a heart and a mind to boot
the language the body talks
is coded and archived in the brain
but there is no way to uncode the message
with a brain so small

the dream of gods, of goblins, of bats,
of fairies - they too are spoken with images
only the body can do
those too are in need of explanation
though in all kindness the body relents
for once with all the images it have cooked up