This body of mine, a poem

I’ve tortured this body

of mine. I’ve starved it,

cut it, made it take

drugs that I knew

would be no good for it.

I’ve berated it, hated it, loathed it, been

desperately unkind to it.

I’ve pushed it to the limit on my

yoga mat as much as in life generally.

Yet it has been forgiving and forever

giving. It has borne me

a healthy son, helped

me to travel and see the world,

to surf, climb mountains, to

dance, to practice yoga and

to run.

It has held me when

all else seems to be

falling apart, and it wraps

me up and protects

my heart, my soul,

my very being,

It helps me to see God

and it whispers quietly to

me, love, love, love.

I am finally realising

what a gift, what a blessing

a true joy this body

of mine. Not

separate to me to be constantly

changed and made

different, but to be

accepted as it is with

love and kindness,

compassion and respect.

This is living my

yoga, just being

present within my

body, as it is, without

judgement, in this

moment.

I wrap my arms

around myself and

look anew at the

wonder that is my

body, the vehicle

of my soul in

this lifetime and hold

myself gently for the first time in

years.

Thank you.

(Emma 2015)