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  • Writer's pictureKatie Kemp

This is my body, she is mine.

I whisper to her, “I forgot about you.

I’ve been disconnected, remind me how to return.” So I sat quiet and learned from her. I apologized to her. I told her I was sorry for my years of disconnect and disgust. I was sorry for comparing her to impossible standards. She was only ever trying her best to take care of me. Ever serving, ever giving, ever welcoming me home. This is my body, she is me. I will love her. Take care of her. Listen for hunger and nourish her. Respond to her needs: water, sleep, movement, love. Hugs, laughter, silence, chocolate or sunshine. I will move toward this nourishment as an embrace. I will thank her. She is the one that carried me all these days. I will treat her with dignity and grace. To her pain, I will speak tenderly. I will create space enough, wide as an open field where she can freely spin and dance and shake off those old patterns. I will give her enough time to rest. I will be gentle with her. Sing sweetly to her. I will pursue her. Dazzle her senses. I will challenge her, allow her strength to grow. Feel the satisfaction of her capabilities. I will let her eat popcorn loudly and stuff her face if she wants. Let her feel like an animal. Maybe even growl. Because at least in her being uncivilized she is connected and free. I’ll let her run wild in beauty. Let her shine! Let her be glorious. Let her be uniquely her. I’ll help her be strong and take up space in this word. I will listen to her intuition and signals of fear or warning or deep knowing. Sadness may melt her to the floor, Joy may fill her and let her soar, Either way, the divine love in her heart is warm, burning and glowing as the hearth of her home. I will appreciate her for the miracle that she is. Everyday I’ll whisper, “Thank you.” Whatever I do, I will respect her. Nurture her. Delight in being her. This body is mine, the only one I’ll have. What a marvelous, intuitive, intelligent design.


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