Dear body, Whats wrong with us? Why do we freeze, seizing up our muscles? Why are we in pain? Is this about our spine? Our nerves? Is it something they can see? Why cant we eat? Why does food look completely uninteresting? Even in our deepest depressions we ate. We loved the taste of pizza and coffee and our own home cooking. Our pallet has become apathy. The sheer embodiement of the word. Why is it difficult to swallow? Why do we feel like our throat is cramping? Why cant we walk well these days? Stumbling and stiff and sometimes breathless? Have we become all that we suppressed? Wounded, damaged from the things we dont talk about? Have we become our inner needs? The ones we dont talk about? All this not-talking buried so deep under all the running of our mouth. Are you asking if I still love you body? Yes. I love you, I love us, now more than ever. We are so much. We are still loved by natures gods who make things huge to reflect us. We are loved especially by the gods who make things knotted and bent and worn to reflect us. Softened wood can still host an ecosystem within it. It can still teem with life. I can be bent. I can be knotted. I can be crooked and in pain and frozen. I can still be a tree. The only thing different is now I believe that plants can feel pain. That they cant vibrate with it. That they can hunch over under it. Because we are made in their image, they are made in ours, and we are still the most beautiful beings. I refuse to be anything less than what we are body. I am also refusing to be anything more.
Posted on: Tue, 16 Dec 2014 19:53:32 +0000
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