06 Feb

To receive any new poems I write via email, please click here. 


I put it down as frumpy and insufficient.

Told myself it protruded too much in some places, and not enough in others.

I learnt the derogatory terms to shame it with mockery.

And got them in before anyone else had the chance;

While still praying that they wouldn’t.


I wanted it to be a showstopper.

But I only saw an unappealing lump.

Wrong colour, wrong shape, wrong size.

Just plain wrong.


What a fool I was to go along with the crowd,

And fall into line with all the endless self-criticism and picking apart of the greatest gift imaginable,

This ordinary body.

With music in its muscles and knowing in its bones.

A sensory magician, primed for pleasure, built to survive.

Connecting me to the mystical just beyond the mind,

Through sensings and impulses that never cease to ripple and lead me forwards.


This ordinary body,

Derided. Debased. Discounted.

And yet all the while graciously and faithfully granting me this extraordinary life.


To receive any new poems I write via email, please click here.

Comments
* The email will not be published on the website.