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
beautiful.
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.
