Posture

Excuse me

for a moment

My queen is screaming at me

I used to think

that I was just getting older

But then I cracked

and my back started to snap at me

My hips would give me lip service

My neck will whip lash me with sass into next week

When I was younger

Imprisoned by my disposition
lacking vertical precision

I remember my mother saying

to my sister and I

Why do you slouch so much

you should stand up taller

My sister would hunch

forward at the shoulders

and it would pull her chin down

so she stared at the ground

My hips would slump

forward and snake up my spine

and it would pull my chin down

so I stared at the ground

I didn't realize

what she was really saying

I don't know if she realized

what she was really saying

Now all the crooks in my core

that have been pinched

over the years

from improper posture

are refusing to carry that weight anymore

All the internal wounds

that my body

has been curling around

are bleeding through

refusing to hide

not even once more

The exaggerated curve

of these misaligned vertebrae

has been a map

of places to travel to

that need to be healed through

I have cradled my hips

at an inarticulate angle my whole life

My sexuality caged and protected

holding the unexpressed grief

from a history of abuse and misuse

The disc between my scapula

have consistently slipped

to make room for the heart

that would shrink back inside

to search for her courage

like a cowardly lion

If only she could see

that she is a lion

My chin pointing earthward

always kept me grounded

But it fought with my vocal chords

silently trying to escape to the sky

Their wrestling for position

distorting my crown and crane

creating the stretch and strain

from the multiplying thoughts

the yearning blossoms of my brain

Desire that kept on burning

trapped in that incinerator

as I consistently insisted

on slowly cremating my frame

I like to think I have an old soul

but my soul must have told the old

to wisely crawl into my body

to awaken me with aches and pains

now that I no longer have

the teenage angst

needed to refrain

doubtfully retreat

redundantly mistreat

the royal and regal that thankfully remains

This Thai Chi master

holding pose

fragile and unanswered

This old blues standard

rocking steady but unmastered

This ballet dancer

stretching slowly

intention overflowing

out of every undulating limb

It is time I embraced

such graceful consideration

Quiet, encompassing gentleness

selfless, shameless pride

cradled in reverence

through the loving humility

of my uniquely perfect posture

Holding the temporary presence

of my physical existence

as the sacred currency

of this appointed temple

Just as I imagine

my mother held me

gingerly and gratefully

for the first time

So I shall listen to her

I will stand taller

No more slouching

The origin of my lineage

will not have it

Excuse me

for a moment

I need to correct myself

My queen is calling for me