My Sleeping Giant

The body is a field of sensation,

With prickles and tingles,

Those overlapping waves of guilt, anxiety and shame.

It is not a hostile place, although it may seem,

It is my home filled with memories, both seen and unseen.

Like patchwork, disorganized patterns were stitched carelessly,

From a past where careless me would sit lazily.

“You are unworthy and useless,”

Her words filled my capillaries, pumping doubt and insecurity,

Clouded moments evolving a foggy identity.

One morning I created space,

Placing a finger to my third eye, the forgotten came to light,

Bringing with it a warm viscosit glow,oS9ynzW

Soothing the grooves and canals of my weathered soul.

Now a pink illuminating river flows within,

Carrying thoughts that reawaken.

My sleeping giant: so bold and so vascular,

Just waiting for me to rescue her.

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