Oh this body, my body – betrays, protects, repulses, connects.
This body, my body that nourishes, and gives pleasure, that bends over backwards – and just like a rug or a mat, lays itself flat on the floor for those to walk on; to walk over.
It endured the stab, the slice, not once, not twice, but 5 times; the removal of organs, both babies, and my womb, my precious life-giver, the plagued insides that gave and gave and were punished for giving. That’s the way it feels anyway.
This body, my body, my stomach my throat that consumed and expelled all those years, the years, the 28 irretrievable years. Retching the wretched contents. The poison.
The mind, the evil, clever mind that played tricks on this body, my body.
This body that held it all in, held it together, that stuffed it all down and down again. But never the woman, herself, did it hold.
But there were those strong legs, always strong, that ran like the wind to catch the child who wandered too close to the road.
And there were those arms, those big arms that held and held the child who rebelled, and a husband, and a mother, and a father, and friends, and a sweet, dying dog.
Oh but those limbs that haul food and move rocks. That plant flowers and sort socks.
Those limbs that helped me climb and claw my way to the top. All the way to the top.
A dirty, well-seasoned, body indeed –
Is now lighter, can run, can pedal, can walk, can swim – is free
without measure, with pure abandon, with unpressed earnest
with joy, the joy!
Oh this body, my body, your plight, your history,
your unfolding mystery
it belongs, it belongs, to me.