OUR BODIES

When I think of bodies I think of free arms reaching for the sky and feet unsheathed moving from heel to toe on soil

I think of backs leaning on backs and hands palm to palm of fingers entwined and hair untied

in my mind they are landforms whose shadows move at the wake of the sun ants carrying a weight heavier than their own

they are structures that scratch snap and sear

recover and renew through healing pain and yet that bodies bare our souls in crinkled smiles rogue freckles on chests and veins that stain our skin the heaven we have in soft sensations and strength we carry in the bruising of abrasions

when I think of bodies I think of hope as we grasp for greater and humility in the grounding of age’s

gravity

Words by Grace Atta