Seeing Myself from the Inside Out

these days find me concerned with my insides, focused inward and upward. studying the connections between my cervix and my mind, my vagina and my heart. if i were more studious at yoga, perhaps i could fold myself in half, feet first, and take a look around. i would settle for a snapshot.

the uterus is an amazing organ, all funny bone and serious business. i want to tickle mine, but the time for jokes is past. we are empty, and i am getting tired.

an exploration of the pap smear. we share a history. my arch nemesis. yet something has healed in me. less tears, more focus. i know where you are. i know who you are. even when you’re in me. i see clearer. i read the words. i follow along. for reals. in spirit, i am our history. and i am now moving along.

if he had seen my uterus, would he have loved me better? if he had eyes for my woman, my proud, my strength and my fire? my insides are unapologetically human. as am i. as was he. humanity is so easy to lose track of when the world is at war.

there is no other i. and she does not need. except today. and so i take my speculum and confirm. we are alive inside. we pulse. in pink hues and frailty. i am not lost. i extend past and beyond what can be seen. i am flesh and bleeding and heart beats and soul.

i am hell on wheels. i am impenetrable. i am surrender. i have a taste for your blood. what could be more tender.

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