rage and recovery

you were born enough

i scream and i rage when i am the victim

of the games of men who wish nothing more

than to know my flesh and to conquer my visage,

and i hurl horrible, hateful words at them

for reducing me down to the object of their desires

after years, and years, and years, of longing for 

the happiness of health and beauty,

because if all my life i longed for this moment

because i would finally feel as though

i was enough

i was worthy of...what?

of these men with their vile gazes 

and their sticky fingers

and the hard planes of their sinful bodies

that they press against my new form

because to know someone like me

has gone from brains and wit and laughter

to beauty and curves and lace.

and i rage because i wasted my whole life 

wishing, waiting for this person, 

for this moment,

only to realize that no matter what I look like,

it will never convey who i am

not to men like this,

to people who wish to put me into their fantasies

and place me atop their pedistools 

just so that they may throw their spears 

at my golden skin

and flaunt my golden frame as a trophy

when one of them finally hits the mark.

i didn't want this, to be this prize,

this woman men chase after

because they like the title,

like the chase of a beautiful woman.

i wanted to be respected for 

my mind and my soul and my heart

and i thought that if i became what they wanted

then i could finally shine brighter than 

the shell i embody.

but i was wrong,

and i spent all this time at war with my body,

when she wanted nothing more than 

to protect me and nurture me and love me,

and i spent my whole life hating her,

when she did nothing but keep me safe

even when i wanted to change everything about her,

even when i painted stripes across her skin

and squeezed and poked and proded at her padding.

but i know now, that it was never about 

my body not being enough,

it was about people, about me, 

trying to take more than it could give,

more than they deserved. 

but i know now what i did know then,

and while it feels like a radical statement

to deprive and abuse the flesh you were born in,

the most radical statement of all 

is to love and savor and accept 

the vessel in which you can make the world a better place.

i am sorry my dear,

my love, 

my savior,

for not realizing sooner,

that you are the most important weapon

i have against this world

of thieves and gluttons and envious traitors.

i will spend the rest of my life

worshiping the gifts you have given me.