My Body, Beautiful

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It’s not because of make-up,

a slim figure, gorgeous hair,

or silky skin.

 

It’s not love letters or cliche

compliments.

 

It’s in the moments I choose

to be present in my body:

epsom salt baths,

the walks where I discover

my breath.

 

It’s in the coffee mug of bone broth

and the coconut oil slathered sticky

on my hands.

 

It’s peeling sweet potatoes and

smelling steam from ground beef

cooking.

 

It’s scribbling in my notebook,

listening to the Lumineers,

taking time to smell the hyacinths

orchids, and tulips.

 

My senses compel me to sit with my body,

to converse, to laugh and cry with

this entity who seems other-than-me.

 

This body tells me that her favorite job is to

whisper, “You are beautiful” to me all day

long.

 

She waits daily for me to respond,

 

“I believe you.”

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