A Poem for the Fat on Our Bodies


Large, thick

Dark, brown, black.

The Sun and her entwine

above these heavy clouds

Bringing us rain

in heaping shrouds.

Sixty to seventy

is the rate of her pulse

Steady, non-changing

Her voice rumbles through

Earth’s precious soil;

Our giver of fruit.

She is the patience

we know as Love.

She is the force

We know as Strength.

Imagine her human -

Does she give some a fright?

Because she looks heavy

And darker than light?

Imagine her shapeless,

Obscured by the shameless.

We’d all die of thirst;

No rain to anoint us.

Sweet, luscious Kapha -

Let us love

The large vicinity

Where thickness means richness

And darkness marries light.

Eyes brown that you cast down

Remind us that there’s comfort

In the blackness

Of our mother’s womb —

The heavenly abode;

The abyss we all miss.

Heavy, rotund Kapha -

Be the very model

For the woman

Who lacks confidence

And the man whom exploits her

at the cost of fading pence

Grounded, solid Kapha -

Only by the quakes of Poseidon

Do you surrender —

Let us learn

How to tumble with grace

And move forcibly

Through the trees that birds

See as obstacles

And you

see as particles...

Now landed

On even ground

Where slow and steady wins the race.

Soundly, I’ll sit

And let my memory surprise me

Of what it means to be

in a weighted body

Of pure, endless Being.


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