My Body Carries

I carry it in between my thighs, my steps,

a shadow still moving forward.

Peter Panned flitting through clouds seeking a land never yet seen.

And like it, it holds true.

In the stutter of movements, and the grace of existence.

I am still here.

Queer and standing.

Compassionate from lack of.

Phoenix emerged from flames that licked at soft skin.

My insides stripped raw, but head held high; ready.

This poem was a response to the first 4Words prompt over on our Instagram.

If you liked it, go check it out, and also check out our Virtual Writing Retreat happening at the end of the month. Registration is free and required to receive the event link!