The Embrace (a poetrait)
I embrace myself, perhaps too fervently
else my arms would be too often empty
this then is my solitary song of triumph
I embrace myself
see this woman, subject and object
dispenser of judgment, repository of desire
see this face, cheek bones, lips and eyes (no stranger to tears) watching, signaling joy,
see my joy, it is not unreal (and beauty?
whether by shape or joy or some other aspect; this privilege, this burden; am I not beautiful?)
I am
this body: arms and legs, neck and womb,
my breasts, my arms, and the soles of my feet
entry wounds and exit wounds (each sacred, each profane)
this home
my body my self, because I am no mere resident
but much more
I taste the world and the world knows me
I dance upon the earth’s back; my toes caress her
I roll in the grass and kiss her neck
I enter her and hide in her womb and thus
am born in profanity and thus egested in holiness
Joyfully, I shout “I am alive”
and too, joyfully, whisper “I am alive and my life shall not be without meaning”
and the universe vibrates with my voice
I embrace myself,
too fervently at moments when joy is insufficient
while I wait for an answer to all my frequencies
for that sweet kiss in return
that golden braid connecting me to some
(and here is the heart of my search, the center of each
step and stumble forward) other
I embrace myself against silence, against the heatless void
against your embrace
while I learn to surrender standing