Body

To live in a body. We all do.

These bodies of pleasure and pain.
These bodies of lost and found.
These bodies of light and shadow.
These bodies of smooth and scarred skin.
These bodies that hold our secrets.

What we hide the body keeps, loyally, dedicated.

Sometimes some of us hate our bodies. I do sometimes.

I get claustrophobic in my own skin. I want to claw my way out.

I love my body when I let go of fear and take her as my one true love.

We dance, we run, we play. I am lucky to have this body.

I think about her death. I look at my feet and imagine them lifeless. I grieve myself.
The loss of me already well on its way.

Is that morbid? Unseemly?

I think it is essential.

I am not so good at parties.

My small talk escalates too quickly to things that are not small at all, and if there is a dance floor me and my body take it by storm. Unabashedly embodied and fully alive.