I am tired.

I have spent my whole life battling this body of mine,
Yet she waits in patient longing
For the day that I finally put down the gun
And return to her
In gratitude and content.

She has lifted me up upon mountain tops,

Given me to comfort and my lovers arms

She has carried me in the wild currents of the ocean

And is the co-creator of all my art.

How ironic that all I do to her is criticize.
How different could this journey of been
If I was not taught to measure her worth
In the amount of cellulite
But to recognize her as the vessel of my spirit
Wallow in her glory.
The physical experience
Of this temporary human life.

Today, I surrender
I hear the relief her sighs.
There is nothing that can serve us,
if we operate in life from a place of hate and fright.