Violence of Perfection
 
 
Body beautiful
My body is beautiful
                        I was told
 
Told myself lies
Someone might see me
                            Scarred
 
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
 
or
 
of the time I awoke in a
pool of blood
 
                        I tell
myself
 
I don’t want to re(member)
 
 
The memory seizes me
Gains possession over me
                        Paralyzes
 
Tell myself lies
Scars make me undeserving
                        Disfigured
 
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.