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..