This Body

I have been taught that as a woman in this world my body is not my own-

It’s for the critics

politicians

and grabby hands,

for the stranger who whistled at me on the street to dream of at night when he’s alone

for religion to lock up and blame.

What if they’re right?-

My body is not my own,

But it’s not for them either.

It’s a temple for peace to dwell

These arms to hold the tired and broken

Having my hair big is not political

it’s natural

Standing and holding someone who looks

thinks

worships

IS

different than me is not radical but loving-

My body is not my own,

It is a piece in this bridge from one end of the spectrum to the other

From ‘we’ to ‘the other’-

You will not use this body to wage a war

As a weapon of mass destruction.

This body will stand in front of your loaded gun of hate

Stare down the barrel of cynicism and fear

To ask you

Will you lay down your arms

And join this body of love?

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Myriam Pedercini

Myriam is currently studying for her undergraduate degrees in Journalism & Peace and Conflict Studies. She is a growing activist for peace and social justice and holds a passion for encountering people’s cultures and their stories. She manifests these passions in her poetry.

 

 

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