I am holy ground.
My body is holy ground.
All around me they scream: “Unholy!”
The world cries: “Unholy!”
The church sniffs derisively “Unholy!”
Unholy by virtue of my sex.
Unholy because of my body.
My body can’t be what it is—
mature,
full,
curvy,
feminine.
No–my body is never too age.
I am to be a perennial adolescent—
never to grow;
never to age.
My body is not to be spoken of:
it’s cycles,
it’s fertility,
it’s sexuality (what girls have that?),
it’s sensuality.
It’s power.
The “M” words are never spoken.
I am forced to hold my mysteries deep in myself.
My body cannot be seen:
it must be covered.
It’s temptation in a skirt.
It’s a sin waiting to happen.
But my body can be exploited:
TO SELL!
TO SELL!
TO SELL!
Isn’t this prostitution?
So what does it mean that I am holy ground?
What does it mean the my body is holy ground?
What does it mean for me—
A Woman—
to be holy ground?

©2007 Shawna R. B. Atteberry

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