Body of mine, beautifully less than perfect.
Body of mine, caramel coated shades of delicious imperfections.
Body of mine, in a mesmerising field of sunflowers, I am at war with you for your inability to be yellow enough, tall enough, hypnotic enough.
Body of mine, waves curving, hips swaying, hair flowing, almond eyes dipped in honey, features of my mother, shades of my father, stunningly unsatisfied.
Body of mine, always kind and never down. No cancer, ulcer, aches or pains, no misfortunes of any kind.
Effortlessly healthy body of mine, I find twisted balance in your disgrace.
Legacy of my motherland, curls reaching for the earth, lashes that curl up toward the sun, body of mine you have rarely been a friend of mine.
Mistreated, disrespected, minimised and frowned upon, body of mine how have you not crumbled under my militant stance?
I should have exalted you and paid homage to your grace. Body of mine you are nothing less than glorious.
~ Noushin Arefadib
Noushin Arefadib is an Iranian-Australian, currently residing in India. She is a human rights activist and an aspiring poet.
