This Body

This body, strong, feminine, is mine.

Fearfully created from the divine.

Crafted from imagination untamed.

Holy, earthly, adored, shamed.


Endowed for purpose and miraculous glory.

Every scar whispers its story.

Deserving of dignity, care and respect.

Victim of loathing, pain and neglect.


Forced to comply with outside rules.

Conforming to standards determined by fools.

Subject of resolutions year after year.

Overcome, ridden with anxiety and fear.


Ridiculed by young mouths #no filter.

Deafened, unable to hear the voice who built her.

Dripping with disapproval of an angry girl.

“Couldn’t it be straight? Why is it curled?”


“I wish this bit was darker and this part lighter,

Why can’t I ever make this section tighter?

I hate these fingers, these thighs, this widow’s peak…”

There wasn’t much left to detest or critique.


Harassed by ‘concerned’ parental authoritarians,

Abused at the hands of frustrated disciplinarians,

Exploited by a disturbed ,desperate, heinous pervert,

Disregarded by her protectors, left alone to hurt.


Uncomfortably filled to the brim with comfort food,

Laden with guilt and in a bad mood,

Burdened by all of the aforementioned shit,

Crumbling to pieces, bit by bit.


Exasperated by negativity and poor inner monologue,

Refusing to let this rubbish become my final epilogue,

Fighting for fresh air and some bloody self respect,

Understanding my worth, the demons will genuflect.


Opening the curtains to let some kindness in,

Recognising that careless binging is due to anxiety within,

Acknowledging my emotions; not shoving them under a rug,

Letting go of guilt; that sly, numbing drug.


Choosing to be thankful for each part of my body.

“Goodbye” to dreams of being a conventional hottie,

I’ll give them a norse burial, I’ll heap them on a boat,

I’ll set them on fire then I’ll set them afloat.


What I had considered to be oddities and imperfections,

Came prepackaged, courtesy of heaven’s affections,

I’m inundated with living waters and springs of joy.

Inner voices of shame are imprisoned and destroyed.


Acknowledging every inch of me as a loving gift,

giving my outlook a much needed shift.

Deepening my perspective; changing the lens,

Realising it’s my soul that first needs a cleanse.


Addressed lovingly and attended to with care,

Meditating on truth, soaking in prayer,

Nurturing this body, hydrating this heart,

Formatting my system and pressing restart.


Basking in the truth that I am who I am,

Perfect or imperfect, I don’t give a damn.

My body doesn’t need labels; I am not food,

I marvel at the label-givers’ ineptitude.


This earthen vessel deserves my utmost regard,

She’s a wild creature, sculpted avant-garde,

I’ll thank God for my body next time I put on a dress,

A future of glory awaits and I am the heiress.




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