Reweaving

I’m growing potatoes, tomatoes, carrots courgettes and onions,

I’m painting my house and tiling my bathroom,

I’m drinking red wine in a pub in Cardiff with women who don’t demand my identity card and talking about politics and life in a way that makes sense to us and doesn’t line specific shape boxes

I’m listening to Leonard Cohen and Tom McRae and Tori Amos and Bruce Springsteen and Tanita Tikaram with my head thrown back and my eyes closed in ecstasy,

I’m watching over worthy programs on TV or complete cheap space filling tat nothing in between hits the spot.

I’m watching Buffy over and over again.

I’m reading like I’m thirsty for words making inroads in the shelves of unread books about feminism, politics, god, poetry, sexuality, disability.

I’m lying on the floor with my dog doing nothing for hours,

I’m sorting books in a charity shop once a week

I’m working with people who need people, I’m not campaigning for money, I’m just putting one foot in front of the other.

I’m looking for Sophia, the female aspect of Abraham’s god, while reweaving the old laws into something bendable made out of love.

I’m having long hot bubble baths, I’m covering my skin in moisturiser because I like the feel and the self attention.

I’m propelling myself through the water, teaching my broken body to utilise its self in ways it wasn’t designed for, building muscles in my upper body that will do for me what my legs wont.

I’m writing letters, and making phone calls and trekking cross country to spend time with women who love me.

I’m learning to live with my wounds.

I’m talking on the phone for hours with the most nurturing person I know and sharing with him, laughter love, knowledge, poetry, pointless humanities and flirtations,

I’m making peace with all the people who didn’t come back for me, or who didn’t come back the way I wanted them too.

I’m learning to eat when I’m hungry and stop when I’m full but accepting maybe I’ll never get this food thing right.

I’m weaving my body together with the man I come back to, over and over again, and who loves me absolutely although too many of you don’t believe this.

I’m looking for myself in this mesh of life we have to live in.

I’m here, just being honest, Just being J