This is the body.

This is the body I always come home to.

Yesterday was a completely fallow day. I spent it in my comfy chair doom scrolling in my pajamas with YouTube playing back up doom and gloom. I gave myself a through beating for “Wasting” the day. then today came home from a lovely lunch with a friend then sat down and using a writing prompt from Laura Davis, thank you Laura for this prompt, wrote all that I was feeling yesterday.

This is the body

This is the body I always come home to. This is the body that has said yes to living again and again, no matter how intense the pain, no matter how much my soul wanted out.

This is the body that housed the cancer and said “No, not yet” this is the body that once walked thirty miles in one day, more than fifty years ago and only once.

This is the body that carries the map of scars. and the aching joints that cry out for mercy.

This is the body that wishes to become water and have no scars. We are all made from water and we all have scars no matter how fast we try to out run them.

No matter how much water, alcohol, and weed I consume I can neither numb nor dilute the pain. It comes up over and over. It’s the repetitive song on the greatest hits list on the AM dial of my radio-headed brain.

This is the body that said no to children. The soul of my lost son jumped ship into another body and found me just the same.

This is the body I would leave behind when truth became unbearable.

This is the body I always come home to. This is the body that holds me like the land. This is the body in which the right kiss can feel like the truth, the whole truth, nothing less than the whole- God -damned -truth.

This is the body that forgives me each time I abandon it.

This body is my mother. this body is my home.

This is the body that housed the brain that said “Hold on, don’t give up just yet.”

This is the body that gives me a place to rest my wandering gypsy soul.

This is the body that housed the brain that hasn’t got time for the pain, yet grabs my heart and runs amok causing all manner of chaos.

This is the body that houses the brain tat tells me “Don’t panic, I’ll tell you when it’s time” That time has yet to come.

This is the body that craves slowness, and quiet, and rest.

This is the body that keeps on keeping on like a river of peace, I drag my fingers and draw circles in the water, then watch the circles grow out toward the shore.

This is the body that can’t find it’s way in the dark but, turns around and makes it’s own light. This is the body that complains about the cold and makes it’s own heat.

This is the body that houses the mind that can’t bear to live without poetry.

This is the body that makes it worth coming home for that truth telling kiss.

This is the body I always come home to.