Violence of Perfection
Body beautiful
My body is beautiful
                        I was told
Told myself lies
Someone might see me
The body tells a story
Captures memories
of the time I was rolling
down the hill at the
baseball field
and a bike ran over me
of the time I awoke in a
pool of blood
                        I tell
I don’t want to re(member)
The memory seizes me
Gains possession over me
Tell myself lies
Scars make me undeserving
Give myself permission to feel
The pain
                        To release the shame
And to witness the body as a temple
                        as a remembrance
                                    a celebration
                                                of my one precious life.