Tuesday, November 24, 2015


Excuse me
for a moment
My queen is screaming at me
I used to think
that I was just getting old
My back started to snap at me
My hips would give me lip service
My neck will whip lash me with sass into next week
Imprisoned by my disposition
when lacking vertical precision
I remember my mother saying
to my sister and I
when we were young
Why do you slouch so much
you should stand up taller
My sister would hunch
forward at the shoulders
and it would pull her chin down
so she stared at the ground
My hips would slump
forward and snake up my spine
and it would pull my chin down
so I stared at the ground
I didn't realize
what she was really saying
I don't know if she realized
what she was really saying
Now all the crooks in my core
that have been pinched
over the years
from improper posture
are refusing to carry that weight anymore
All the internal wounds
that my body
has been curling around
are bleeding through
refusing to hide
not even once more
The exaggerated curve
of these misaligned vertebrae
has been a map
of places to travel to
that need to be healed through
I have cradled my hips
at an inarticulate angle my whole life
My sexuality caged and protected
holding the unexpressed grief
from a history of abuse and misuse
The disc between my scapula
have consistently slipped
to make room for the heart
that would shrink back inside
to search for her courage
like a cowardly lion
If only she could see
that she was a lion
My chin pointing earthward
always kept me grounded
But it fought with my vocal chords
silently trying to escape to the sky
Their wrestling for position
distorting my crown and crane
creating the stretch and strain
from the multiplying thoughts
the yearning blossoms of my brain
Desire that kept on burning
trapped within the incinerator
as I consistently insisted
on slowly cremating my frame
I like to think I have an old soul
My soul must have told the old
to wisely crawl into my body
to awaken me with aches and pains
now that I no longer have
the youthful angst
needed to refrain
doubtfully retreat
redundantly mistreat
this royal and regal that thankfully remains
This Thai Chi master
holding pose
fragile and unanswered
This old blues standard
rocking steady but unmastered
This ballet dancer
stretching slowly
intention overflowing
out of every undulating limb
It is time I embraced
such graceful consideration
selfless shameless pride
cradled in reverence
through the loving humility
of my uniquely perfect posture
Holding the temporary presence
of my physical existence
as the sacred currency
of this appointed temple
Just as I imagine
my mother held me
gingerly and gratefully
for the first time
So I shall listen to her
I will stand taller
No more slouching
The origin of my lineage
will not have it
Excuse me
for a moment
I need to correct myself

My queen is calling for me

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