This body -

it feels like a

carelessly flung net

cast out into open sea

collecting the debris

from last years storm.

This body -

this container

left with the sediment

and leaves that

predict a destiny

we are yet to meet.

What has been washed up

upon this shore

has been hoarded

by this body,

hope and certainty

pocketed and stashed

away desperately

into the thickness of thighs

and the capacity of belly

the density of bones.

This body

is filled

with residue.

This body,

the tank we

pushed out as

our first line of defense,

now adorned with medals

that no one can see

but ourselves.

This body,

that feels more like

a halfway house,

than a home,

a place of perpetual waiting

it took what

comfort it could get

in the absence of touch,

in the absence of family

and those most loved.

It will take time

to feel this body again

as it wants to be felt

by yourself

and others.

It will take time

to unpack the exile

from your heart

and unlade the loneliness

from your collapsing shoulders.

It will take time

to satiate this skin

and grow wild again

where paths have been paved

through mindless tread.

And for all this body

has collected,

what matters most

is what was let go of

along its journey.