I love the way my thighs touch together
when I am standing,
feet firm on the earth.
I love the length of my legs,
long enough to wrap themselves
around those lucky for that embrace
with little extra space to spare. My shape is the perfect container for my soul,
so generous, so soft,
yet powerfully strong and bold.
Without looking outside for validation
of my beauty,
I find so much of it within.
Carrying myself as what I am
instead of trying to be something
I am not- something that is rare, if real at all,
and so I become very real, and in that way, sadly rare.
As I walk this way,
my gate becomes slow, graceful and intentional,
each step of these feet,
each stride of these legs,
is a dance that moves my mind, my body, my soul
across this Earth that I love.
Perhaps you feel it too?
This longing to be comfortable in this skin you chose?
Perhaps you would like to shed the mold they tried to fit you into
and accept the beauty of your true form.
Imagine if each woman, each man, each child
were taught to walk in this way.
Heart held high, belly filled with breath,
chin level between ground and sky,
eyes gazing at the horizon
without concern of anything else,
celebrating their beauty with each step they take.