Soft

I am learning to love my soft

My cellulite

Stretch-mark

Sinking softness

The softness that used to keep me up at night

Reminding me that no matter how hard I turn my heart, 

I will always get hurt

Always callous

And scab

And burn

The softness that made me want to hide

duck down

Shrink away

Calorie-count my shame

The softness that made me crave pain 

Release 

From the tension of air against skin

Breaking in

I was taught that being soft meant being weak

That growing up meant hardening myself

Building walls brick by brick in an attempt to bear reality

To keep everyone out

To stay safe

And sure, being calloused to the chaos of creation does indeed keep you safe,

But to be soft-

To allow your body to curl itself around another

To allow your heart to break in the face of this broken world

To let yourself feel every emotion coursing through your oak tree veins

To radically love all your soft-

Is to fight back

And partake in the greatest revolution.