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III. I learned to forgive before I learned to speak / to turn palms upward to God and my lover / to let a man ruin me with his love / to call the ruins sacred / to uproot everything and call the new place mine / to name the nostalgia something sweet / a ripened fruit growing out of a dying tree
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I asked myself how many times have I done this? and I realized I had lost count. I am a woman who insists on loving love, who always finds a way back to herself, back to being whole.
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it all explodes all at once. I can’t breathe then. (the lungs are busy laughing too). my eyes spill a few drops of sky and I shake and shake and shake. I like myself best when I am laughing. bursting. all of me. the best of me
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I laugh with all of my body.
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all you have is the years that are piling around you like dust soon your heart will be the last one at the station
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Gorda. your body answers: hello. I’m here. thank you.
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they call you brave. you say it’s just the parts of you that you can touch.
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they won’t say the word. they prefer thick or curvy or big. you say you want to hear it. like you hear your name.
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the word gives you power.
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you write it down. hundreds of times. you start saying it to describe yourself. you don’t flinch. others do.