October is the hardest month to be in my body. Muscle
memory. It is a guide. A protection. A haunting.
October taught the word rape. Twelve years ago. Still right
now. Today. Still learning. The reach of it. Still reclaiming. That sharp sort
of hollow.
October is muscle memory. And my muscle, this memory, I do
not want them joined. Not any longer. I want my body. Unwritten. Free. A
creation. Just for me. It is a child’s wish. An innocence. A grief.
And grieving is a life’s work. It is an honoring. A dignity.
A power. That can never be taken. Never be given up. Never. My body. Integrity.
It will not erase what has been survived. It will not change the truth of the
story.
No comments:
Post a Comment