A body is a body A tree is a tree
For a flower and bee
sex is sex
but what is sex to me?
Standing before the mirror
I recognise that if this body was simply a body
it would be easy to remove my clothes and see the flesh as flesh
yet history has carved so many meanings into the curve of a breast
that mountains of bodies have left this world still suppressed
unable to imagine the freedom that could have flourished
Lies disguised as law destroy the lightness of being
heavy upon my shoulders I know that this body being just a body is not true
if it were, there would be no rebellion in this body simply being with you
This ever shifting shape of understanding
stands in the mirror observing the limitations it wears
the generational suffering it bears
Recognising the political act of resistance that skin simply by itself bears
and the radical embodiment of the phrase
that a body is just a body
as a tree is just a tree
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