The idea in our culture of body solely as sculpture is wrong. Body is not marble. That is not its purpose. Its purpose is to protect, contain, support and fire the spirit and soul within it, to be a repository for memory, to fill us with feeling – that is the supreme psychic nourishment. It is to lift us and propel us, to fill us with feeling to prove that we exist, that we are here, to give us grounding, heft, weight. It is wrong to think of it as a place we leave in order to soar to the spirit. The body is the launcher of those experiences. Without body there would be no sensations of crossing thresholds, there would be no sense of lifting, no sense of height, weightlessness. All that comes from the body. The body is the rocket launcher. In its nose capsule, the soul looks out the window into the mysterious starry night and is dazzled.
― Clarissa Pinkola Estés, from Women Who Run With the Wolves
This body, since the day of my birth,
has been both a blessing and a curse.
Held, hugged, rocked, washed, smiled upon,
and cooed to, a receptacle of care.
From my chubby little toes, to my buddha belly,
to my silky, curly cornsilk hair.
From lying, hands flying, to rocking on my knees,
then toddling to outstretched arms;
To running through grass, near and under,
then climbing, trees, a vehicle to explore.
When the novelty of parental care waned,
my warm fuzzy nest became a cool island.
Wee me, sticking out like a sore thumb —
opportunity for unconscionable exploitation.
Wee me, a small vulnerability, swooped upon,
a beacon to unholy appetites. Feet held
concrete-encased, under water, in a now-bloody river,
denuded with a thousand bites.
Like Pegasus, the soul burst free, splashing, wet,
flying sunward, mind riding bareback.
Never again would the violated object be trusted
to protect anything again, especially itself.
Now an unfeeling doppelganger to serve the rider,
it keeps its mouth and its legs shut –
unless told to open by its mad queen.
The soul waits, patient.
image: “Trot,” by Allan Mardon
Grace is today’s host for dVerse’ Meeting the Bar. Grace says:
Writing Challenge: Write a poem about the body parts (e.g. eyes, hands, feet) as a metaphor and/or story. It doesn’t have to be about your body or family’s history (from the first person experience), if this makes it uncomforable for you. You can write about the body’s experience of someone else (from a third person narrative perspective). You create the mood – serious, or sad or sexy, or funny or filled with nostalgia.
Tao Talk 
‘From my chubby little toes, to my buddha belly,
to my silky, curly cornsilk hair.’ – this lovely warm imagery then descends into desolation and terror. Heartbreaking.
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Thank you, Ingrid.
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Another great image selection. 😊
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Thanks, Gia!
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My pleasure! 🤓
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Oh, how true are your opening lines, Lisa! I love all the baby, toddler, and child movements in the opening stanza, from passive to active. The vulnerability in the second stanza is so familiar. These lines are dark and painful:
‘Never again would the violated object be trusted
to protect anything again, especially itself
…
it keeps its mouth and its legs shut –
unless told to open by its mad queen.’
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Thank you, Kim.
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“Like Pegasus, the soul burst free, splashing, wet, flying sunward, mind riding bareback,” such a heartwrenchingly beautiful and honest poem, Lisa!
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Sanaa, thank you. It felt like pulling teeth to write it but am glad I did.
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I love that quote before the poem, and how you used to explore to differentiate the soul from the body. Our body goes through a lot of wear and tear over our lifetime. It is both a blessing and a curse but we await patiently for redemption.
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Thank you very much, Grace.
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Plush and lush and experienced as the real body in real time. Well done Lisa.
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Thank you, Brendan. Not always easy to write from there but doing it helps me get where I’m trying to go.
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I hope that soul has healed.
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It’s in process…
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This was intimate, honest, moving and so damned well written Lisa — I read twice. Pain and purity. The spirit certainly dwells. Where it journeys when it moves on, no one knows for certain. But being here now is all we control, even it is not always a joy. Be healthy my fridnd.
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Rob, your thoughtful and encouraging comment is appreciated. Many thanks and positive thoughts being sent your way.
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I see an invincible spirit behind all the ravages of experience and of time. Your shining spirit comes through it all, and that is splendid to see.
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Dora, I feel your strength in these words and am strengthened by them. Thank you ❤
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The poem starts with innocence and ends in desolate heart. Very well written Li
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Thank you very much, Sadje. It was a tough one to write.
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I can imagine.
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Brilliant imagery! I enjoyed your inspirational presentation.
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Sharonlee, thanks much 🙂
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Both the music and the image illuminate your words. We all lose our innocence as we grow, but to have it violently and physically wrenched from us is a heavy burden to bear. You are facing the consequences bravely. (K)
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Kerfe, thank you, my friend. I appreciate your validation and support ❤
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What a journey you’ve take the reader on … sensitive, forthright and punchy.
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Misky you feedback is very much appreciated, thank you. Also, I wanted to tell you I’ve read your Bosch Tumblr series so far but don’t see a way to like or comment on it? The one about Mr. Hide was so chilling, picture and poem!
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It can be done from the embedded post in my WordPress blog, but I can’t see where to do it on the Tumblr site. On Tumblr I use their app (and only for The Poeming challenges. I’ll check it into it, Lisa.
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I will try going through your WP blog then.
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I’ll check with some people I know who are quite knowledgable with Tumblr, as there must be some setting I’ve overlooked. I’ll get back to you as soon as I know.
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No worries, Misky. I didn’t realize I could get to the Tumblr poems through your blog. I think I have to be a Tumblr member to like or comment anyway.
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ps: I put trigger flag #tw on that one because it completely creeped me out too. 😂
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You know, Silence of the Lambs and Bosch is a perfect combination!
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This body, since the day of my birth, has been both a blessing and a curse…AMEN Lisa…
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Thank you very much, Max.
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A painful and touching story, well titled. The final stanza is one of hope and enlightenment.
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Thank you, Beverly, I’m glad you see that about the final stanza.
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Lisa, this is profound poetry reaching deep into the psyche of many …
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Helen, part of the reason I decided to go forward with writing and then sharing it was because of that very reason. I won’t be silenced anymore.
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Incredible poem, Lisa! How the body can be both a blessing and a curse, how it can be both cuddled in love and violated by lust…my heart hurts for all abused children. I pray you may find healing.
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Lynn, thank you very much. I’ve been processing my trauma (childhood and adult) for a long time now. One of the things I have learned is that that very dichotomy is where the irreconcilable schism comes in. I can feel your compassion, Lynn, and I appreciate your prayers ❤
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❤
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Profound and heartbreaking Lisa.
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Thank you for reading and your comment, Linda.
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The rawness of the experiences of life stand out, and I love your resolve not be violated again, age at least gives us discernment.
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I appreciate your feedback on this, Paul. Thank you.
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Very welcome Lisa
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