Sacred Land

This body is not a temple.
These bones were not carefully crafted by hands that would unrighteously break you for saying the wrong name.
This skin was not sewn from lush velvet that commands you to confess your guilt because you committed the sin of recognizing beauty.
These eyes are not finely cut gems reminding you that you are always watched and never worthy.

This body is sacred land - a wild forest that has grown for billions of years.
The stars are my ancestors, the ocean my mother.
Each breath is a prayer. Cries of pain and echoes of laughter are hymns.
The dead live here. They know where every secret is buried.

Approach the heart of this forest wearing nothing but kindness and sincerity.
Hills and valleys of soft flesh may welcome you into their embrace, but it is a fool who ignores the rocks and thorns beneath.
Pools of knowledge and rivers of memory merge into lakes of passion.
A trail of scars leads to a beach where tides of the future wash away fates that others tried to write in the sand.