• YMAN Outreach Team

LGBTQ+ Youth Artist Series Winner

My Body 

In my body made from blood and bone, roses and carnations grow from my lungs. Each thorn carefully growing and maneuvering in positions ensuring that one does not scratch my fragile flesh. With petals occasionally rising in my throat causing a scent that sends me into a haze that invigorates me. Holding my hands within each other I release that a certain softness in them tells I have not known the labors of life. But from my hands will grow grapevines extending to every heart willing to let me touch them. That will be my hands toil. 

To the eyes that I have that are defective, maybe they are so because I'm meant to see something else that is not intended to be seen with vision. My skin is made of so many colors that do not have names. The birthmark that covers half my face are reflections on everythings of my world. The same everythings that sets into my consciousness that vivifies me. To my hair that grows in every pore on my body I thank for being my protection. 

In my body made from muscle and tissue, the excess fat on my body is a reminder that I am more human than some others. My weight is made of shards of smoke, only existent until it  is blown away. In my stomach lives caterpillars hoping that when they transform into butterflies they will take me with them in flight to take me somewhere made of nothing. The slight dryness of my skin reminds me of deserts that cause hallucinations to anyone stranded in them. Maybe it's because I don't want anybody getting too close. 

Sometimes this body feels like white noise in the background of someone else's world. But I know the worth that these veins carry. Walking barefoot these feet will take me places that have only been seen by the blind, maybe they can't see this world because they are busy staring in awe at sights of another. It might seem lonely to do all of this alone, but I believe loneliness is just when people give up trying to find others willing to walk in the same direction.

This body will choose a love from whoever decides to step into my storm and no one can tell me otherwise. I assume that some people have so much hate for love because they exist in realms of vagueness, never truly understanding the primordial concept we call love. 

My heart carries so many precious jewels of carrying and loving and some believe that this must be purged. Like miners extracting diamonds from caves. But the very gems they seek to rob me from are made from the rubble they excavate. Therefore my heart will always keep its glizen. 

My body has been carved from alabaster by the hands of gods and goddesses. When the life within me finally wilts, I hope that I will live the rest of eternity in the world I have made for myself.  

-Armando Medina Jr.

Instagram - @aarmand.oo

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