I am Everything

Life. Without the quick disappointed glances in passing mirrors,

as we walk.

Without grabbing at flesh as if its amount, texture, appearance, is measurable.

– A scale of beautiful to worthless

spins by my eyes as a calculate my


I look down in disgust.

What if, instead,

I look down at the wonder

of tiny, separate, moving cells

that have merged from the majesty

of Queens

and infernos of oceanic volcanoes.

Instead, instead I trace the whirling designs

of my skin.

Only mine.

The body that possesses strength to protect,

to hold a child.

The body whose hairs grace an intricate pattern.

Only mine.

The body that graciously cradles my consciousness,

and the collective consciousness

-what was and what is and what could be –




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