When have I given up being naked?
Was it when they told me it’s not proper?
Was it when they forced me to take off my clothes
Even if I did not want to?
Or was it when I first noticed that my body
Simply did not fit the geometry of beauty?
Maybe it was when I felt a repelling gaze
Undressing me against my will.
Or maybe it was when I felt so exposed
So vulnerable, that I needed protection.
When have I given up being barefoot?
Was it when they told me terrible things
Happen to barefoot women?
That they get so very sick that
They will never ever recover.
Ever.
Maybe it was when I fell in love with shoes
For they way they complimented my clothes
And together they made little outfits.
Or maybe it was the moment I felt the calling
Of wild grass so deep in my womb
That I became too scared
To remember who I am.
When have I given up ecstasy?
Was it when they told me it was a sin
That it was wrong and shameful?
Shame on you, they said, when they walked in on me
Giving myself innocent pleasure.
Maybe it was when they taught me
How to masturbate, but they failed
To show me how to make love to myself.
Or maybe it was that moment of deceit
When I heard that harsh voice inside my head
Saying: “You are not worthy.”
Oh, shut up, you liar,
I don’t believe you anymore!
When I give in to you,
I give up who I am.
Here I am, with my bare feet
Defying all laws of common sense,
With my body wearing nothing but
It’s stories of love and pain
Of joy and dancing
Of life and death,
Reclaiming it’s right to honored
And celebrated
Just as it is.
In honor of my body, with my deepest love, respect and gratitude
