if my body is a temple,
then you've desecrated it.
touched me with irreverent hands.
said
'woman'
like it was a heresy
in itself
to breathe
and feel beautiful
in the form I have no control over.
have you forgotten
where you came from?
you have made martyrs
out of saints.
out of your mother,
and her mother,
and her mother,
so far back
that you no longer recognize
a goddess
when you see one.
the womb is a place of worship.
every curve,
every flaw,
every edge
of her body
a hymn waiting to be written.
we have made sacrifices
upon sacrifices
to appease the entitlement,
to cover the shame
they make us feel
when they say
'woman'
at an altar.
at a shrine
men made
to make themselves
idols.
'woman'
she's somebody's daughter.
'woman'
somebody's sister.
'woman'
somebody's mother.
'woman'
somebody's lover.
'woman'
somebody's friend.
but first,
she was somebody.