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– My Body Remembers –

My body remembers;

The hands of my Father
laid upon me in anger;
the hands of my Mother
laid upon me in fear.

The hands of a schoolmate
pushing me down with laughter,
careless of the damage
it would do me for years.

The hands of a stranger
tracing over my thighs,
as I lay on his bed
in a hazy high.

The hands of a lover
who hurt me so badly
that I felt myself worthless
with every blow that landed upon me.

And yet despite the pain
of the trauma that remains,
my body remembers joy;

The feeling of bare feet dancing
across the hardwood floor
of my childhood home,
swinging carefree around
the thick wooden pillars
that held our house
against the winter storms.

The warm summer breeze
filtered through the branches
of evergreen trees
which I had planted
with my bare hands.

The rushing warmth of my first kiss
on a cold winter night
from a skater punk boy,
as I waited frightened and alone
for a city bus to take me
to another temporary home.

The gentle touch
of the kindred lover
who showed me
that I was worthy
of being happy,
who taught me
how to love myself
more than any other.

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