Celebration Song

I am boiling, temperate,
bubbles swirling in helixes
up from my womb space
into my heart,
swoosh through my chest,
my irresistible smile.

I am dancing, more potent, more expressionistic,
More tasty with two feet planted
than I ever was
in wild gestures
before I found my beauty.

My beauty,
rooted,
finally twined as steel spiderwebs,
spindly ivy, permanently grafted into my bones.

The source of my moves, the tones of my soul,
the sacred fired, the stained imprint of my being.

My bones rest easy because my beauty runs between them,
Up and down those knobs,
Each door a potential
Each bump a perfect fit to a groove,
Each muscle a favor to get it all to move around

I cannot not dance.

This precious gift I have come across at year thirty-six
Perhaps remembered from five,
It is something I won’t let go
I’ll scrap and brawl for it
I’ll scream to keep on in my body
My body

The one that has been fucked and cut into
and infected
Rejected,
discounted, wished away, covered up,
put on a mental stage of orgasmic performance.

It is beating now, this body,
breathing alive, moving on it’s own
Without asking my permission.
I am following it around,
exploring what it wants to taste
What it wants to touch
What it wants to feel
It knows more than I
and I follow it on the beauty trail to beauty.

My body’s humming, singing up praises to sensuality

Countless images of women, their postures,
their gestures make sense to me now.
Oh, that is how a woman holds her body
who feels that gold glow inside herself,
Who hears her song flood in her ears

Who doesn’t need to do anything but stand to feel the swell of her own potency

I am one with myself
One with all women
Our pulse beating with the pulse of our mother earth
Its pulse combining with the pulse of
Our mother’s sons
This rhythm drawing us all closer together

All I have to do is stand to see a different reflection of me everywhere I look.

Gratitude

Palms, elbows, dirt.

Gratitude.

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