I am made

so terrifyingly real

and carnal

by what you wish

to transcend.

What you say

burdens you I wear

like flesh, like

skin, like

it colors it. It stains

and tints

all that I am

like blood. It courses

through me like

ancestry, it is

my legacy, my being,

my past,

my present,

my future,

me.

I am not heavy,

or ugly,

or scary,

or impossible,

or difficult. The world

its conditions,

its inability to see

or hear

or hold me,

you,

yes,

you are,

but I,

we,

are glory.