growing up
I heard
“suck in
your stomach”
“pull your skirt
over your belly
to hide it”
“your tummy
should be
flat”
and I learned
to hate
my squishy
middle.
with a black
permanent marker
I circled my sins,
scribbling the words
“FAT”
and “HATE”
across my abdomen,
longing for scissors
sharp enough
to cut it all off;
my outsides
were all wrong.
growing up
I also heard
“you are
too sensitive”
“stop crying”
“you care too
much”
and I learned
to hate
my big
heart.
with gritted teeth
and tears
in my eyes,
I pushed my feelings
down down down
to save
everyone else
the trouble
of my emotions;
my insides
were all wrong.
as a grown up
now I have
taught myself
that my belly
is part of my
one sacred vessel
that carries me
through this earth;
it is where
my nourishment
resides,
that which
allows me to
dance in the sand
with the cool
breeze running
through my hair.
and as a grown up
I have also
taught myself
that my gentle heart
is my superpower;
it allows me to
traverse the depths
of every last
emotion,
to soar with others
through their ups
and their downs,
laying a foundation
of powerful connection
along the way.
and through
all of this
I’ve finally learned
there is nothing wrong
with a soft belly
and a soft heart.