another body poem

This body is weak. 

It goes on cradling 

a precious Gift. 

It leaves pieces of itself 

in the dust of the earth. 

It burns 

with many desires when he holds it. 

It feels 

it's limitations when 

You call. 

It wants to tear away from my soul 

and do as it pleases at 4am, dark strange beds and lunacy. 

This body is weak. 

It groans 

warnings of heavy loads too late. 

It spews pains of emotions past, 

unsettled. 

It vomits lies and sweats impurities. 

It glistens in the sun. 

It is prone to starting fires. 

It weeps and weeps and weeps. 

It moves - 

sometimes when I tell it to. 

This body is weak. 

It carries and fulfills its temporary purpose. 

It will be left. 

It knows. 

It wakes with fears of abandonment. 

It lavishes attention. 

It yearns for a blessing. 

It was made to be healed.