It's My Body

Here's the first group poem from last night's Mary Daly discussion group. I ended up repeating the phrase "it's my body," because many of the segments didn't make sense without it.

It's My Body

It's my body.
My pleasure and delight are  my own,
but sometimes now I see my Grandmother in the mirror,
strong, soft, faded, fresh, vulnerable, powerful.

It's my body.
It's not a machine meant for making babies
and not some contraption designed to evoke delight in an outside observer.
It is me. It is my  home.

It's my body.
My spirit guides my body in its unique way.
to love and to birth.
I need no other spirit to interfere. Likewise
I shall not interfere with your spirit.

It's my body.
Justice means giving birth
Not giving birth
My body, my right -- poor, black, rich, white
all women

It's my body.
Everything about it belongs to me.
I will be the one to decide how it will be.
No one else has the right
to

It's my body.
and I'll do with it what I want to
let it be
run, jump, stand, roll
hold your arms
out and spin in
the sun.

It's my body.
Not your body.
I don't want yr insults or compliments
I can't believe we are still having this conversation
I blame you if I can't feed my baby
I can't afford your decisions