separate beings

i feel sometimes like my body and i are two separate beings
often in disagreement with one another
pain roots itself so deeply
invades my body
stretches out and overtakes my skeleton
it becomes so familiar
some days i’m not sure where it stops and i begin

i want to be social and stay up late
but my body is exhausted for seemingly no reason
it needs me to rest

i want to be young and carefree
but my body screams that it cannot handle the strain
it begs me to slow down

i want to be independent
but my body humbles me by setting unreasonable limitations
it pleads with me to ask for help

i want to cross the finish line
but my body retaliates by resenting me for days
it implores me to never do it again

-meeting hostility in the shape of my own body

more sunsets

you don’t see things in the wild trying to hide their age
longing to be something they aren’t
age means something in the wild
it is strength
it is adaptability
it is life itself

you can read a tree
it’s marks, missing branches, torn bark all tell a story
all the wisdom they have gathered, standing, observing
they’ve seen trees born, and grow and have seen many fall

at 28 i first noticed the lines on my face
horrified and mesmerized all at once
my face telling the things i’ve seen, before i open my mouth
all the smiles i’ve smiled
all the tears i’ve cried
all the sunsets i’ve squinted through
all of the stories i’ve emphatically told
all of the summers i’ve enjoyed in the warmth of the sun
maybe one day we can learn to appreciate our age
as the trees do
gracefully growing and extending our roots
with any luck i’ll be graced with more, deeper, lines
more life
more tears
more sunsets
more summers
and many, many more stories

perfectly imperfect

remember when we were eight
and we loved our bodies
celebrated them
by using them
to their fullest potential
hopping over a stream
skipping a rock on still water
our biggest concern
the perilous lava bubbling below a long stretch of monkey bars
remember when our bodies were everything
we relied on our bodies to carry us everywhere
never giving our looks more than a second of our time
i wish we could return to those simplistic days
of celebrating our bodies by relying on them
rather than focusing on our physical insecurities
thankful each day that they carried us through it

until this body is taken from me
i will celebrate it

perfectly imperfect
this is my body
and it carries me well

we are

sometimes i wish we could see ourselves for what we truly are
free from society’s mirror
free from our own
we are so much more than the bodies our spirits are confined to

we are love
we are adventure
we are wild
we are peace
we are strength
we are passion
we are determination
we are joy
we are connection
we are

one day
when we look back at the photographs
may we only see memories
the cellulite will disappear
how much we weighed will be insignificant
and the crows feet will fade away
until all we see is a life well lived
relationships well tended
and a body that allowed us to accomplish these things
a body well loved

-who we really are

perspective

when i was twelve, a boy likened my arms and legs to those of a woolly mammoth, so i shaved my legs and wore long sleeves for far too long

when i was sixteen, my body turned against me, made sleep painful and hallways daunting, i began to wish for the strength of the mighty mammoth

now at thirty-three, i wear two deep lines upon my face, marvelous mammoth tusks, embraced gifts of time and perspective, just waiting to be wielded

never again will my body be minimized by a comment.