| They live beneath the language of skin |
Remembered without knowing |
| Passed down in silence |
Carried in gesture, not memory |
| An echo felt, not heard |
They hum beneath the surface |
| Born of others’ aching |
Still breathing, still watching |
| They wait in the quiet body |
These are the creatures we inherit |
| They move when you don’t |
They are not ours to control |
| Not summoned, but inherited |
But they live through us anyway |
| They do not resemble us |
Not fully seen, not easily named |
|
But always there |
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