Stretch Marks

Mother Earth,

I'm sorry

For the way 

I treated you

Because my skin looked and felt like your dirt.

But now I have come to see,

That I was made to be a home 

For tried feet to find rest,

For flowers to stretch their arms toward the sun,

For bees to have a place to cultivate,

And for nutrients to flow from my mouth.

I do not look at my stretch marks as hideous,

But as the earth within me stretching her hands,

toward the universe,

I do not see my hair

As something to straighten or hide,

But a place

For creatures to find rest

In the crook of my curls.

My mother didn't mean to be unkind

That day when

She said that my hair looked like a birds nest,

But meant to say that I was a safe place

For my friends to entrust me with their secrets.

But, I only understood

The sacredness of my body,

When I saw that

Even Mother Earth has stretch marks.

And we love her for them.