A weighted masterpiece

          I have a sore back
          I’ve been carrying this weight for so long
		that when I finally manage to		stretch		out
		it feels like I’m shifting from some devout, stone-cut frame.
          I’m working on taking a higher stance
I only look back to look forward─
				        I am a new face emerging to meet the eyes of this crowd
									 rather than the ground.
	My back	is burning.
	This time last year, I grew wings of ivy 		in ink.
	I’m still learning to be worthy of them
	I’m still learning what that means.

The pain in my back feels like growing pains but I’m not getting any taller.
							(They say, the only way is up).	

But, oh, I am getting stronger, and I am formidable.
	There are stretch marks on my insides, and I am in metamorphosis.
							       (They say, beauty is pain).

Do you misunderstand me?
		I do not sweat and heave and bend and scream and dance to be just
          I built this weighted masterpiece,
		  to regulate the pressure in my shoulder blades.
          I mould my body to show my mind
						what I am capable of.
I have been etched out			from submission, in a stone-cut frame
					to challenge shame 		and reclaim myself. 

Featured photo courtesy of author.


In a dream, you saw a way to survive, and you were filled with joy.


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