I.My practice of pride begins in my stomach
a red ball of energy kept warm within my womb.
I'm growing. My arms span wider, my legs stand straighter, my thighs are stronger. The shackles of shame loosened, my body is better able to breathe under its weight. Once constricted, twisted, and contorted by the medical labels of 'cerebral palsy' and 'disability'; my limbs, muscles, and bones are now untangling through the power in crip and community.
II. Pride, a red ball of energy kept warm within my womb
drops like an egg, and travels down my inner thighs
I'm growing. Lost shame has left spaces in my flesh, craters in my bones and dents in my muscles. Wounds so deep, that I feel a cool emptiness enter my body where the shame exists. Wounds so deep, that sometimes I wonder if it is possible to ever be whole without shame.
III. Pride, a red ball of energy kept warm within my womb,
drops and traces the curves of my hips with her two gentle fingers.
I feel her pressure on my bones.
Her warmth makes my stomach tingle
I see her red, five fingered hand prints on my skin.
Can you?
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