My Body

I have hands blistered from work

Lips I use to kiss the ones I love

I have eyes that see the injustices of the world

My voice that rings out in laughter

My chin that I hold high

My ears that hear you try to determine my future in ways you know nothing about

So let me remind you

It is not your choice

It is not your choice when I am fifteen

When I am twenty five

When I am forty

It is not your choice

My body is not a host

My body is not your political battlefield

Nor is it a place for forced incubation

You say you’re working through the grace of God

But maybe My God doesn’t work like that.

My God can differentiate a person from a cluster of cells

My God understands that this is my body and not yours

Time after time, I’m told to put myself second

And others first

But this is my body

My Future

My Choice