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Bodyland

My body is not my own.
It is like the land, an inheritance.
It contains traces, 
incubates traumas. 
Aches with forgotten skills.  
Secrets linger. 

My body is not my own.
It is like the land, a custody, 
to be looked after, 
to cultivate, and pass on.

My body is not my own.
I am my body, I am the land, 
I am the spirit watching over my body
and the land watching over my spirit.

Go to Richard James Allen's profile to read more poems