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.