i.
cover up.
you shouldn’t show your knees,
your shoulders, or your chest.
otherwise, you run the risk
of making men uncomfortable.
and of course, that’s your responsibility.
these words
pinned me down for far too long,
convincing me to believe
in a God that turns up His nose
at bare shoulders turning freckled
in the sunlight.
but slowly,
i started to shed those layers.
i started believing that my body
was made in the image of
a Goddess,
and therefore, it is Good.
now, i no longer hide.
i dance in the sunlight,
my shoulders turning red
from too many afternoons at the beach.
but, it doesn’t concern me
because now i feel
free.
ii.
i flew across the country as
august took its last breath
and arrived in a place
where the air sucks the moisture
from my body.
and in this place,
that holy, well-loved body
is once again
indecent.
but all those years of
dancing in the sun has
built up a thick skin.
the pointed looks and outdated rules
roll right off my sun-tanned back.
instead, new words
have chained up my heart,
put there not by me,
but by an institution
that cares more for
the comfort of its donors
than the student with
an enamel rainbow pin.
they go:
cover up.
you shouldn’t show your humanity,
your love, or your pride.
otherwise, you run the risk
of making us uncomfortable.
and of course, that’s your responsibility.
iii.
these words
are trying to pin me down,
trying to convince me to believe
in a God that turns up Their nose
at two women sharing kisses
in the sunlight.
but forcefully,
i’m trying to reject those layers.
i’m trying to believe that my love
was made in the image of
Divinity, who is love.
and therefore, i am Good.
someday, i will no longer hide.
i will dance in the sunlight with a girl,
our cheeks turning red
from too much belly-aching laughter.
those who call for muskets won’t concern me
because finally, i’ll feel
free.
