they told me as a child not to draw on myself.

now i paint flowers where they grabbed my hands to make sure i wouldn't wander off. and rosebuds by the corners of my eyes when they told me not to cry. shooting stars stretching from my ankles to my thighs to remind myself to move and travel. i weave words of wisdom into my hair to mimic the way the rivers cut the mountains year after year- persistent. and carve all the names of people i have loved throughout the years onto my arms.

they told me as a child not to draw on myself. now i tell my children to fill the world with their art.

- your body is your first canvas