An Ode to Myself

I celebrate myself.
Despite all the trains chuffing melancholy
To pale varicose tunnels,
I celebrate myself.

I celebrate myself
Because you’d like it if I’d just shut up
If I kept my legs shut,
And stored everything in some pious parcel.

I bear the weight of living—
I must keep on for the millions of me
That could not. I am their beacon.

I am too loud
For me to take the earth as my cover.
There is nothing more pure
Than the love of a man for another.
I celebrate myself
In riots, in drag, beaten and spit at.
So to all the men alive as death,
I celebrate myself!

I celebrate myself
Despite a history rooted in shame.
With a gold mine at my thighs,
I am natural.
Like a force to be reckoned with,
I’m natural as a disaster.

You may mistake my curves for clouds,
Envy how free my hair is,
Or melt at the sweet lisp of my words, but
I celebrate myself.

They have tried and tried to knock me,
But still I’m here.
As God is the Earth,
And the sky every gender,
And my thoughts every storm,
I celebrate myself.

Cloaked in sin,
I celebrate myself.
Sad as hell,
I celebrate myself.
In solitude,
I celebrate myself.
To the past,
I celebrate myself.
Here and existing,
I am strong
I am gay
I am alive
And I celebrate myself.

painting: “Self-Portrait with Thorn Necklace and Hummingbird” (1940), Frida Kahlo

 

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