Forgiveness – Hour Eight

The vibration in my ribcage is a swarm of bees,
Stinging sorrow cleansing the shame to give me back the keys.

To my own body, I am no longer a stranger.
This tattoo needle’s ink giving me back my power,
You have no longer seen my body as it now looks.

My body, always a topic of conversation
For everyone who thinks they know better than me.

Another comes along to try to knock me down,
Turn the dial on self esteem all the way left

But to my own body, I am no longer a stranger.
The vibration in my ribcage is a swarm of bees,

My body, always a topic of conversation,
But this time there is no stinging sorrow.
Even with anger buzzing through me, I decide:

My kindness, my trust, is not a weakness.
I forgive those who so clearly need it. 

One thought on “Forgiveness – Hour Eight

  1. Wow – and to the Gigan, no less… Powerful and poignant, and good for you owning this poem/your body! The two repeating lines even more powerful when joined together:

    ‘But to my own body, I am no longer a stranger.
    The vibration in my ribcage is a swarm of bees’

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