First of all, there is blood. Blood is important. An ocean

that flows within and without. Sometimes it wants to paint

everything else in scarlet. Second, there is flesh.

A mushy outer-core that easily bruise. There are moments

I ask why I wasn’t made of scales. Maybe if I was, I will be braver. Stronger. Unafraid

to hit and get hit. Life is all about collisions. But courage, I found,

does not depend on the hardness of one’s crust.

We will always have tender parts, like organs,

like lungs and hearts.

But tissues interweave into sinewy barriers, muscles

strong enough to curb steel, therefore  I am not a lesser element. I have bones,

depots of calcium. I am an architectural masterpiece placed

in between gravities, submerged in two blues. I stand

with my two feet and bow with my spine, proud and still.

The world will push and pull but I

won’t ever break.


The Human Parts I am Proud Of, a poem dedicated to women, their tenderness, and their strength.