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 isâ€”
No–my body is never too age.
I am to be a perennial adolescentâ€”
never to grow;
never to age.
My body is not to be spoken of:
it’s sexuality (what girls have that?),
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:
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 meâ€”
to be holy ground?
Â©2007 Shawna R. B. Atteberry
0 thoughts on “Poetry: Holy Ground”
Beautiful and very powerful, Shawna.