This Body In Which I Dwell

This body in which I dwell,
this animal in which I ride,
is not your animal to decorate, 
load with your baggage, 
steal, or kill. 

You ask me why
there’s no talk of beads
or buckskin in my words?

This animal in which I ride
is not yours to decorate.

You ask me why 
I never speak of drums
or sweat or feathers?

This body in which I dwell
is not yours to steer.

You ask me why
I do not look upon myself
as you do, translating blood-drops
into culture without a care?

This animal in which I ride
is not yours to load with your weight.

This body where I have made my home
is not yours to open and occupy,
this animal in which I ride
is neither your prayer nor your prey.

How you see what I show you
is not my concern
and if this journey takes me
into the harmful path of your illusions,
if my ride fails and this animal
falls as a result, know

that I will free myself
from that flesh and rise and find 
new passage, and
it still will not be one
for you to understand, much less one
to make your own.

About Tony Brown

A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown

One response to “This Body In Which I Dwell

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: