My Body's Stories

My mind holds secrets

others' eyes can't see

bearing the tender wisdom

of a young life lived

yet still ripe with opportunity

for illumination.

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My hands have held others' hands

with lines and wrinkles and scars

telling their own stories

and who have held

the hands

of others still

and looked into their eyes

and studied their lips

as a way to peek into their

souls

and feel they know them.

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My eyes are etched

by snapshots in time

invisible even to those 

who linger long

staring into their midnight depths

and trying

in vain

to uncover the images beyond.

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My feet have walked paths

trodden by multitudes

yet experienced in a way

no other has

laden with circumstances

no other faces

and knowledge

no other possesses

and with toughened skin

to brave the brunt.

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My cheeks bear 

the stains

of a thousand kisses

hidden under red rouge

and pink blushes

from loved ones

here and gone

known by few

yet loved as though by

a myriad of hearts

and remembered

in detail

by those

blessed enough

to have made

their acquaintance.

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My heart punctuates

the void

in even exclamations

of remembrance and affection

for others it has been touched by

and is marked

by unique joys

and sorrows

no other knows.

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My back bends and twists

still unabated

by past burdens and tribulations

a constant support

whether standing straight

or bending low

to shrink or grow

to receive a hug or offer strength

to others with backs

less forgiving than my own.

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And, in all these, my body tells a story.