I Have a Body

This is a poem about loving yourself.

I was taught to hate my body when I was five years old

And a little girl with pigtails in her hair called me 'fat'

Because my face was too round to fit 

Into her angled and sharp worldview

I went to my mom that day and cried

I think it may have been some sort of 

Self-fulfilling prophecy because 

While my peers began to shed 

The baby chub they had once carried

Mine continued to marinate on my frame

Growing and feeding off of insults and exaggerations

School yard hatred became it's medicine

And I became fat

And I won't sit and sugar coat my condition

The obesity rate in America is high

And sometimes I feel like just another statistic

Years of yo-yo dieting and counting calories

Has left me defeated

And my thighs have grown larger

With every dessert I have cheated

I have battled my flesh with every ounce of my being

Wishing, praying, hoping that one day I would shrink

I have been ashamed of the way my thighs rub raw

My collar bones buried and my jaw too soft

But what does this shame do but lay

Dormant in my chest?

Turning my stomach any time 

I pass something reflective

I am tired of hearing the phrases

"Big boned" and "more to love"

Attempts at excusing the 

Offensive fat cells that reside under my skin

Because why should I excuse it?

Can I not love myself organically, radically

Become friends with these pounds?

Stop pining after the Kardashian butt

And size double D breasts hoping

That one day I could be worthy of acceptance

And I am tired of hating this fat, round body I posses

Poetry Prompt

The prompt for this poem was "write a letter to love"

Your hands are rosebuds that quickly turn into nooses

And your words like caramel- sweet but soon turn sticky

And you're as fickle as the sunshine during a California winter

Your promises are a drug- enticing but brutal

And every time I come near you, you turn into this monster

And I have to run away

I've never had a taste of your intoxicating pomegranate but I'd like to

I've never been drawn into you like Persephone

But if I had I'm sure you would look a lot different to me. 

Purpose: Rambling

So maybe this blog won't be mostly finished poems, but that's okay. I like the rambling ones just as much as the finished ones anyway.

I have never felt more free

Than when my mind is not on my problems

But on the words of a song

My body moving to the beat effortlessly

And I have never felt more me

Than when I am deep in worship

Hands raised, eyes closed

Focused not on myself

But on the one who created all things

And I have never felt more alive

Than when I am out in the city

Lights blinding, feet moving

People passing me

Each person has a story

I want to know that story

My freedom

My identity

My life

My purpose

You see it doesn't come from me

From my desires or loves

But comes from the opportunities I have

To please my precious God

And I have found that God is pleased

In places you don't expect

And I found God in the most desolute places

The most mysterious of phases

My most ugly, broken, torn-up spaces

Because my God can not fit

In church on a Sunday Morning

Or Kaleo on a Wednesday Night

My God is okay with doubts

With fears

With late nights in unfamiliar cities

My God encourages exploration

 My God gave me a voice to speak

And courage to speak out

He gave me a heart that breaks

For those without

And my God gave me a message

With his son's shed blood

The one that ate with prostitutes

Walked with tax collectors

 And most of all

Showed love

So shouldn't we be the same?

Feel freedom in our call

To love those rough around the edges

And all of those that fall

I have never felt more free

Or myself

Or alive

Than when I realized that Jesus came

Not only for the pharisees

Or the church lady down the street

Jesus came for me

And all whom I meet

Sizes: A Rambling Poem

I am a size zero

Look in any plus-sized section at

Forever 21 or Macy's and you'll see

I am a size zero

I am also a size fifteen

Or sometimes a size thirteen

And I have one pair of size seventeen pants

Hanging at the back of my closet

And honestly my size depends 

On what form of voodoo magic

You're using as a reference

But what does it matter what size I am?

In a universe with a Creator

That breathes balls a fire

Ten times as big as the Empire State Building

 Why does it matter what number adorns

The inside of my pants or what society

Thinks of it

Because you see I've realized something

In my 18 years of life

Worth is not a size

And my worth does not come 

From that zero

Or seventeen

Or fifty-two

That the tag on my clothes says

But my worth comes from the one who

Made me, plain and true

And my Abba Father is perfection

The embodiment and definition

And if I regard myself as anything less

What does that say about Him?

And I have learned that

The worth of a masterpiece

A masterpiece like me

Is not dependent on the majority's perception

For how often was greatness scoffed at?

But the worth of a masterpiece

A masterpiece like me

Is found in the ability to

Say something important

Communicate love

Pursue truth

And I have learned 

That I do

Have something to say

To all of you

That your freckles are like constellations

Proof that you've enjoyed the sun

And your skin is tinted

With all the colors of the universe

Rolled into one

Your hair is perfect

Exactly the way it is

And no matter what

You are beautiful

You are worthy

And the truth is

It doesn't matter what sixe you are

Your size will definitely change

Your story, that's what matters

And it's beautiful

Trust me, it is 

Poetry Prompt

Okay, I know, this is sort of a dump, but I figured this one would be relevant to this whole new-blog thing. This is from the last poetry club meeting I went to, and since it's the beginning of the semester we were prompted to write an introduction poem, with three aspects about ourselves. Here is mine!

I am a lover

My heart beats fast at the thought

Of books and TV

Stars on the big screen

I am obsessor over personalities

Though my humor may be dry

And my words unforgiving

My soul screams for relationships

Friends, mentors, a family, a team

I am also a writer

If that wasn't obvious enough

Pen to paper, filling spaces

Ideas flowing, mind speeding

Faster than my pen can write

I live for scratches over words that just

Weren't good enough

And huge capital letters

Shocking readers

I am a free spirit

I long to travel and to learn

And not learn at a desk

With a laptop searing into my eyes

All to bright no matter how dim

I make it

I long to reach out of my jaded lifestyle

So much so that every time

I pass an airport, train station, or bus stop

I must hold myself back

From buying a one-way ticket

Out of this stupid, small place

Poetry Prompt

This was from my very first poetry club meeting at my school. The prompt was to write, from the perspective of a building, some sort of memory that we have. I chose to write from the perspective of my church at home, and it sort of goes through my life.

She was so innocent and sweet

Her curls bounced as she danced into my doors

And I embraced her with my warmth

The worship swelled and she looked up to me in awe

And my stained glass windows winked back at her

She was a lot older now

Her sassy attitude permeated the outside

But as soon as she entered my walls

I comforted her

My familiarity made her smile

And as her hands went up and her mouth opened

I smiled in return

She wasn't really as terrible as she thought she was

She was ready to go out on her own

But I wasn't ready to let her

The others gathered around her in prayer

And I wept for her

She was mine

All mine

But as she walked to my doors, ready to leave

She smiled

See you soon

She said

And those were the words I needed to let her go