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A M Ryder Aug 11
There's no easy
Way of asking
I already know
What he's going
To say but
Maybe he just
Needs to say it
So I ask
Him anyway
"Are you scared?"

Only smiles
And a patience
I've never seen
In the face  
Of someone
Who knows
That they
Are dying
the lake bed
was uneven
a mosaic
of large rocks
and dancing
under foot
with each
shuffled step
an interchange
of unreliable shallows
and inconsistent depths
he wasn't
particularly keen
only willing
to venture in
up to his chest
to advance
if he couldn't
plant paws
on soil
   or stone
not even
the lure of food
was enough
to tempt him;
though he wanted
his treat
a reward
   for his bravery
the murky water
   the unknown
   the unfamiliar
   the unexpected
was just
too much
'She could be great
if she lost the weight.'--
These words burned into my mind

And I find that brand on my skin
In the form of slaps and bruises,
Grabs and pinches, trying to
Determine the length, the number
That is always over, never under.

Wait, don't go,
stay, be late.
I'm sure I can bite off the extra space I take,
I can rake my nails over thunderous thighs,
Compromise my breath
by wearing bras not my size.
I can be slight and slender
In my demeanor,

Look how invisible I am when I'm not on stage,
When I'm not in the dance!
You might glance me in the beginning
As I'm wearing a winning grin
And a sheen of sweat,
Worried to be found out as fat.

I promise I can dance,
See, look at all this art that I craft
With my hands and my heart.
Yes, my body as well
But you can barely tell.

The swell of my ******* rise and fall
With the breath in my chest, but
I can't rest, comforting words are
Too frail a nest.
Witness my hyperventilation
in this body fixation,
This determination that I can't be enough
There is far too much of me.

But I'm pushing, pushing back
I ask for gentleness,
  I begin to allow my bones to enjoy
   their cocoons
    Of muscle and fat and sinew.
     This is a body.
      And this body moves.
It reaches and teaches
  Grasps, gasps, hands clasp,
   Knees collapse, voice rasps,
    It's all valid.
    Eating salad won't fix what isn't broken.
The space I take up
Is my entry token into the world,
It's my ticket stub that can't be snubbed,
My admittance isn't denied
Because of my thighs.
My lungs are given permission
To the air, my heart receives
A knowing nod that I too may be cared for.

Life and love,
They love me all the same.
I must not blame and shame my size,
Using my eyes as daggers
that try to cut and carve away the excess.
Let my eyes be a balm,
To calm and to soothe what once
Was an abused and used,
And refused vessel.

I ask for gentleness,
Something new.
I ask for gentleness
From you, too.
Suhaib Tariq Jun 22
It happens at once
and sometimes in stages.

In days and months
and sometimes in ages.

In distant lands
and the strangest of places

Touches your hand
then leaves with no traces.

Fortune is but
a foul mistress

that favors the brave
and deserts the shitless.
Yemaya May 11
If the world knew you,
maybe it wouldn't have
made you this way.
It would uncurse you,
free you from the facade of strength
release your emotions
the hate
the love
the tears.
Because true strength
true bravery
is to let loose the thoughts and feelings
that scare you most.
saint8 Apr 13
Under a rock
In the messiest river
You have given me
A power jam

It is red
And shiney
And it burns
With passion

If you hold it closely
You'd see the cracks
And feel the endless vibration
I always think it might break

But the red rock keeps it's structure
For every time I tried it
It has yet to fail me
It has shown me new lenghts

I am terrified it might fall into little pieces
One day
But as you promised
It always held together
i bought a chair
that i thought was
what i was looking for
what i needed

the style
           the shape
                        the colour
ergonomic perfection

that something so simple
could align with
my needs
my wants;
i was surprised
i admit
it caught me off guard

but in time
the comfort i thought
i had found
was found wanting

adjustments were made
and support toyed with
plumped up
or reduced
as seemed necessary
only to achieve
further discomfort
and anger

perhaps this desire
(or desperation)
to find
an idea of perfection
dulled my senses
what did not truly fit

i have now spent
more time
upon the floor
considering a replacement;
unable to commit
to discarding
this imperfect throne

i have no confidence
in finding anything better
and will likely continue
second guessing myself
as i second guess myself
we are the cat
that is both
but this box
is too small
there is not room
in this state of flux

one way
a truth
must be established;
open the box
to see for certain
or accept
what you believe
could be true

bury the box
forget the alternative
move beyond
the internal
Carlo C Gomez Aug 2021
Jara sang undaunted,
Fet-Mats, turned to stone, dug deep,

—as if a silent prayer in Latin,

—as if the sacredness of wedding vows,

as a water lily.

There's a perpetually simple elegance
to what water fallen words
kept in a tinderbox stir,

—bless the soft spoken
and the loud cry.

—bless the dead poet
and the buried miner.

—bless the nouns and verbs
of a crescent bride
about to receive her husband
inside of her.

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