Mother Nature Doesn't Care
If there's dirt in my hair
If my stomach, swelled with steak
rolls over there

She likes me full
She gave me the hunger
She likes it's pull

Mother Nature doesn't care
If my skin is freckled everywhere
if my skin has split and healed in scars
from here to there

She likes me patched
She gave me the straw
My skin's been thatched

Mother Nature doesn't care
In her eyes I'm always fair
scrubbed and brushed
or earthly dusted everywhere

In her eyes I am whole and perfect
and when I see myself through them
I see it, too

** I wrote this lying in the shade, hiding from the scorching heat of the day. It was just too hot for my night clothes, and I didn't want to wake Steve to find a lighter top. So I just took it off. I was the only conscious human for miles and miles. It felt glorious to feel the breeze on my skin. Or to not be reminded of the parts of me that can't feel - because it's a weird sensation to feel fabric, and then to be made aware of where it stops, to look down and see it and know that you will never feel that skin again. It felt amazing. to be so free, to be 100% comfortable in this crazy body of mine. To not feel alone but instead to feel like the wind and sun and trees and bushes and rocks and ants were all gently whispering to me "you go girl..."