Be strong little worrier
Oh, I mean to say warrior
See, I get confused, the two are so close
They are lovers holding hands
The same threads that string their fingertips together
Hold the constellations in place
There is solitude in the way that you yell
When you open your mouth that wide
I can see the quiet tucked under your tongue
Be not afraid to hold it in your hands
Be not afraid to offer it to others
Not everyone deserves your noise
Learn to handle your waistline
Like the work of art it has become,
The work of art it has always been
Say: “this is for me,
This is all for me”
The earth you lay your life down in
Has been here for far longer than you can even count,
This is a promise!
Because there has been war
And earthquake and tsunami
And still there is hard
And still there is soft
Still there is survival
Learn not to take these fingers for granted
Nor these thighs, this flesh of stomach,
This neck
This body is the first gift you were given
It is the safest home you will ever know
Be strong my worrier, my warrior
You have it in you,
You always have
Destiny Rothenburg is a 19-year-old student of English Education at the University of Lethbridge in Alberta, Canada. She loves plants and Harry Potter and hopes to one day lead a new generation of feminists, using poetry and her future position as a kindergarten teacher.