Consumption
Ruthless gators scavenging the swamp of my brain,
claw by claw,
my thoughts intended to consume me
•
As I thought of whether or not
I was worth being seen
seen with something so many view as
disgusting
flawed
fixable
•
Something that I’ve hidden for so long
tucked into pants
sucked in for pictures
squeezed and poked at maliciously by fingers
burned by too many fiery crunches
harshly spat at in the mirror
denied for the sake of “visual improvement”…
•
I ask myself:
Why?
why is something so simple as flesh encased by skin viewed so complicatedly?
why are our centers something that are chastised yet endlessly praised when they’re more toned and smaller in size?
should be small yet not too small for fear of looking gaunt?
that should be hidden at all costs but expected to look like they’ve been kissed by the Sun themselves?
that should only be large and round if there is another being thriving inside?
but then are expected to return to their original state once that being has been given the gift of life?
•
Why, I ask,
is something capable of raditating laughter
being a home to inner mechanisms essential to our prosperity
providing insulation during frigid days and nights
supporting our entire body as we work, play, rest, love, create
and providing a 9 month home,
sparking the continuation of its legacy through another,
treated like an atrocious, correctable, shrinkable,
bag of skin
simply worthy of being squeezed up
and shoved under
a mere piece of cloth?
•
I say we cherish those rolls, bags, curves
no matter their shape
hold them lovingly
feed them openly
re-affirm them
dance with them, not to correct, but to celebrate
laugh until we cry with them
fill them up the the nurturing embrace of our deep breaths
allow them to be seen, in all their full, fed, nurtured beauty
flaunt them
•
Because after all,
thoughts of being, creating, fulfilling…
Should be the type that consume us.
