I’m 40 years old now and I am done 

putting down my body. 

she has done so much for me 

and I am finished giving 

the only thanks to her being 

words of curses and abuse.

she has carried me,

her vast desert brown sand, 

stretching over valleys and hills 

preserving sun and warmth for colder days.

she has been a cave, 

a small humble dwelling, 

where each of my children have  

been created, formed and grew, 

safe and warm in the darkened 

secret place,

then at the appointed time,

she gently pushed them out 

into the light.

she is brown and soft and sweet,

my body is brown sugar, 

molasses, 

and made of clay.

a strong vessel, 

a beloved crinkled map,

covered in wrinkles and cracks,

yet still in tact.

I love my body. 

she has been kind, humble, and loyal to me.

i will not speak ill of her again,

instead I will thank her, 

rejoice and delight in her

fuss over her, 

feeding her, 

not starving her,

ushering her into rooms and 

gently, patiently 

coaxing her to 

u n f u r l,

spread out,

and take up space. 

she is golden light, 

before the sun sets

I will cloak her in royal

purples, 

greens, 

and reds, 

before she is laid to rest 

returning to the clay 

in which she was formed..