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A poem for all of us ⊍⊍

Woman

You can now loosen your abdomen.

There is nothing to hide,

nothing to squeeze,

nothing to restrain.

How does it feel to breathe now?

Of course that your thighs rub when you walk,

You are soft tissue

moving through space.

Fleshy folds running through your entire body,

That far from being surplus,

They speak to us of confluences,

Of encounters.


Is there something more sensual

that those pulpy folds that are formed there,

just in there…

coming down from the hips in a triangular shape

where the pubis kisses the legs.

To honor your body home earth,

Is to honor nature all.


A rich and diverse landscape,

that speaks of smooth and rough textures.

Of curves and counter curves.

Of firmer areas

And more lax areas,

That converge and dialogue.

A soil that continuously mutates,

Because you are changing permanently.

Lunar Woman,

Cyclical woman.


We would accuse of being insane

whoever pretends that a rose

should look like the hibiscus flower.

A single model in which to fit?

What a crime to existence.

But you are recalling

WE ARE recalling.

To the mystery that becomes

When I postpone the urgency to classify,

To force to fit what I do not understand

In fear of opening to what is different from me.

Woman with wide hips,

Woman with narrow hips,

Woman with big and swaying breasts,

Woman with breasts that barely peek out,

We are here to remind you among all of us,

the beauty of the plurality of bodies.

Demystifying unfounded myths

in which a toned body

It is synonymous of a healthy body.

Relax the perineum,

Allow the flesh of your buttocks,

of your thighs move freely

Going to the beat of your walking.

How does it feel to be your body now?


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