April 15, 2015

A Love Poem to the Body Hater.


I don’t really know your story.

I am not familiar with your reasons.
I don’t know why you fell,
who uttered words of hurt that were shot straight into your precious heart like  poisonous arrows, making you squirm of shame.

I know you have suffered.
I know your pain, as if it was my own.

In fact,
It is my own.

You want to be appreciated, respected,
accepted, healthy, happy.


You want to be loved.
Longing to be loved,
to feel your own love
for yourself.

I know.

Your body is aching,
on so many levels.
Your mind spins out of control.
Your emotions are hiding and fiercely penetrating you at the same time.

And it hurts.
The pain.
The waiting.

Waiting to succeed.
Waiting to be good enough.
Waiting to get accepted,
to feel belonging and confidence
Projected unto a body that clings on to a fantasy of some future self.
Waiting to finally be recognized,
to be heard,
to be seen,
to be wanted.

Waiting to be you.
Just waiting.

Never actually stepping into your body’s undeniable brilliance.
Never getting to experience your own beautiful love.
A love that could flow from your heart, like liquid gold, and drench your being in sparkles of light.

Never letting go and just trust that all is well.
Never knowing the magnificence of your body.
Never knowing the magnificence of you.

Not yet.

But there is hope.
I know.
You will make it.
I know.
You will wake up and say:
“I am ok.
I am deserving,
I am worthy of my own love.
I am beautiful way beyond measurement.
My soul is craving life and
within me is the wisdom of the whole fucking universe.”

I am not wrong.
Not me.
Not my body.
I am dynamic life expressed in infinite symmetry.

I am perfect.
I am loved.
I am love.

I know.
I am.


Author: Nathalie Sage

Editor: Katarina Tavčar

Photo: Pixabay

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