Your body is not my body
You don’t need to take those rocks from your chest and hurl them through my windows.
I refuse to be afraid of heights
and every morning I get into a hot air balloon and float up into the sky.
That’s joy, flame underneath and bright colours up top
because down below is just a pit of all we couldn’t hold.
My body went through metamorphosis, heaviness into light to save itself,
without doing that
so I go up, whether you’re with me or not
but you can follow me,
if you want to.
And even if
even if we are on fire, so what?
you can grow many things out of ashes.
You say you’ve been burned before
but you don’t know that time and time again this body has been set alight
then plucked like a dead canary,
feathers ripped off
bloody back, kneeling down prostrate and praying to nobody in a tunnel with no end.
My body always finds new ways of flying,
and it would do you good to realise that no matter how many rocks you hold
I can still carry you.