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My Body and Me: A Poem

October 22, 2019

 

There’s a disconnect

Between my body and me
It all began at birth
Within a sliver of a moon’s phase
There was a chasm
A bloody, brutal war
Between my spirit and its vessel

I’ve been on a goose chase
For decades since
Eagerly collecting every ounce
Of myself I could find
Amidst the ashes and debris
With the intentions of
Reuniting my mind, body & spirit

But as with most battles
Bombs continued to fall
So I’ve learned to always
Be on the defense
Expecting tragedy, seeking
Refuge in peril
Because that is where
My war zone
Became a comfort zone

Refusal to fall
Into the safe house of 
Hope. I saved energy, always
Expecting the worst, begging for 
A battle.
Because if I expect these raids
I’ll never be
Victim of the blitzkrieg
That contentment can create

But an army always prepared
For war, runs out of sustenance
Remarkably quickly
And so I’ve been at a shortage
For years. Starving in the barracks
Front line weakening, ever so slowly

Every so often, we call a truce
Removing the molding, gouged bodies
From the battlefields
Giving ourselves a tease
Of peace.

But as I collect the fallen
I recognize just how similar
These opponents are
I see myself in them. I invite their pain
Their love, their desires, inside
I see myself in every bloodied,
Battered corpse

But then the horn sounds
And I retrace my steps
Each footprint forward
Erased in the mud and blood

Lost in the suffering of
Each of my soldiers
And grappling for the pieces of me
Strewn across the battlefield
And embedded, like shrapnel
Into my enemies

I continue the cycle
Of murder, loss and pain
Eagerly searching for a white flag
That I’ve refused to throw

Looking at my dwindling men
Our inability to defeat the enemy
And their unwillingness to budge
I finally call for a ceasefire

And as I shake the hand of
The other commanding officer
The blood strewn battlefield
The canvas of guts, fire and pillaging
I notice

I was never fighting the enemy
I was warring with my own traumas

And this armistice
Allows me to collect
Each dismembered limb
And thought and wound
And return home

While I trudge home
Dragging my pain and pieces
In my wake
I notice that maybe, just maybe
I am complete once more

 

Maybe its not about reconnecting

My soul with its original vessel
But accepting and admiring the
Brutality that got me here
And assembling a new home
One with an ode to my past
A room for healing
And doors left ajar
Encouraging light

To enter once more.

 

 

For More, Follow Ana's Instagram: @anapearl_ 

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