melanin,
brown and black
a yearning for
alabaster.
I never knew of my bias,
theirs was always clearly there
to keep me skinny or remind me
that the way I was would never be good enough
I am getting better -
at waiting to be back, until
I can once
a g a i n
Call this body, my home.
The eight-legged spider mocks me
with all eight of its eyes,
And descends from its corner of the ceiling.
Today, I dressed you in cotton,
softer than the wool sweater I wore
until the seven-year winter in me ended.
look at yourself
in the mirror
and think of everything
you have overcome
I am not the substance of that enemy
I am not what happened to me
I am what I am what I am
And I am me
Today, the sun will be blotted from the blue
& I will have a sonogram for the complex cyst hiding my left ovary.
It’s pretty cold,
one of the girls say.
But what she doesn’t know
is that you’re all dolled up
just to slow dance with yourself
Mind is numb, it's hard to focus. Attention to task can't be kept.
Chest is heavy, massive weight has been placed.
With every breath a strain to inhale. Body is exhausted, sleep is a companion:
Its friendship allows for an escape.
Armor grows heavy,
It clangs too loud, chafes
the rounded parts of us.
i’ll stroke your hair when i start the storm.
i’ll hold your hand when i change the tides.
i’ll kiss you soft–the way you like–
when we light roman candles
with the flames of our past.
At last, we bow, empty of bitterness.
Let it drift, cleanse, rinse.
Wash with peaceful caress--
Body of water.
When I look back on my past
I see shards of betrayal
Arrows of deception
Shot right through my heart
I refuse to obey the haunting words sinking into my skin
I love the way my thighs rub together while I walk the streets of Brooklyn
The way the love shows on these lumps
Shoulders strong enough to carry dreams
Darling Ryan is a storyteller fluent in poetry, prose, and playwriting. She is inspired by the nature of humans and their capacity to heal. Photography by LaCher Thompson.
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This is what YOU are capable of
And so much more!
Defy all odds
Break free from the shackles of emotional subjugation
i eat ice cream from the carton
wiping drips with a dirty hand
smearing the stickiness onto the jeans
i've worn for a week
proof that something happened
a clear memory when I read the words he said –
My existence was where no voice,
no possible movement, could free me
from the agony and darkness.
so please treat your body
like a friend
you don’t have to find it
beautiful
you don’t even have
to love it