I took a look at the body in the bubbled bath, and this is what I found:

Rough and blister- ridden feet. I peel the blisters away to reveal fresh, pink skin not yet known by you.

A scab still clinging to the back of my heel- soon to be a scar from those shoes that I wore to walk the always too many city blocks separating us.

Stillness outlining my knees where they poke above the water line. There is a bruise there. I didn’t notice until now, but the purple is tinged with green and I realize it is fading before I even felt its pain.

Water filling in crevices between ribs that are a little more prominent than three weeks ago.

All in between I see marks and scars, spots and blemishes. In slowness and silence I begin to embrace them, love them, draw connections among them. In doing so I compose constellations of the universe that is me. My body is a reflection, a collection, a map of memories.

Water splashes over

limbs that ripple water.

Just as the river is ever- changing,

so am I.

If grace is an ocean, then please let me drown.


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