THIS is my body
I see it as a living miracle

This is my skin
Not perfectly smooth nor flawless
I got chickenpox
From my daughter
She was 2; I was 27
The virus went to my spine
I could have died
I didn't
A miracle

These are my eyes
With wrinkles around them
And dark circles
My child has been sick most of her life
I spent my nights comforting her
And my days working to support her
She is a healthy young woman now
We made it
A miracle

This is my hair
Wet and finger-combed most days
And my fingernails
Unpainted and dirtied
Symbols
Birth, death and rebirth
Miracles

These are my breasts
Un-"improved"
Not perfectly sized or shaped
They produce the purest form of nourishment known to mankind
A miracle

This is my hara
It's not flat
And bears a large scar
After 16 hours of labor
My baby almost died
I did what I had to
To give her life
I wear it proudly - as a symbol
Of
A miracle

These are my hips
They're curvy
And a little wide
They carried a baby
In safety and comfort
On her journey to this world
A miracle

These are my legs
Not long or lithe, as I might like
I've always had to leap higher
Walk faster
To keep pace
With the strides of other dancers
And the world
They are connected to my soul
And together they bring forth artistic beauty
To me and to other tiny dancers
Because of my stature
I am able to be closer to them
And to animals and flowers
To seashells
Closer...
To miracles

These are my feet
My second toe is longer than the first
I have no nail, to protect my pinkie toe
True to its name, it's always pink
The bottoms of my feet
Wrinkled and dry
All in all
I've walked miles upon miles
Of sandy beaches
In my lifetime
I've studied the sea for hours upon end
Miracles

This is my heart
It is riddled with holes
They've have had to heal from the inside out
Can you see them?
I see them as tiny portals
That allow love to pour out
Just a little freer
In many directions
All at once
A miracle

THIS is my body
I think you get it.

Don't you?