Soft form of
mine, housing something so much bigger…
I thought of
the enormity of the choice that I made. To return to this soft form, this
house. To return to the ravaging emotions, the pain, joy, love and before I could
remember that I have come to do something,
my form has changed… child hood seems such blur and an unawareness of body.
And my adult hood… somewhere I lost track of an awareness, and came too in my
early 30’s. I have a body, a shape, a temple to love and cherish. And so I
began loving myself.
Consciously,
I have done this. I say it unashamedly, I love this shape. And now as the years
start creeping onto my face… I look at my naked form in the mirror, hollows
beneath my ribs, still will always have a soft mound of a belly. Stretch marks
faint from the children I bore. Breasts heavy, belly button deep. I stretch,
flex my arms, biceps strong, still there. My favourite part of myself is the
way my breasts curve into my arm and the muscle elegantly joining my arm, and
I look at the aging face staring back at me. Somehow the rest of me seems to
have failed to catch up, no lines – only a little softer, a little blurred. My
hip bones not so prominent, just there for me to know.
Oh shape of
mine, thank you… I pay benediction to myself often. I bless my feet that have
carried me strongly, my legs fine pillars moving in my life’s rhythms. Every inch
of me is thanked for its function, creamed, oiled and blessed. I am grateful. Thank
you dear soft form of mine for housing something that is so much bigger than
what I see and feel. The enormity and humbleness I feel for this, makes me weep…
That I would
rise and leave this house one day, I wonder if I will thank it as much as I
feel right now…
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