Body. Mines different from yours? How so? Arms that lift, legs that walk, eyebrows that furrow, eyes that cry, lips that turn up to giggle, cheeks that flush, toes that grip, a stomach that holds me upright, hair that gets caught in the wind, a nose that smells everything wonderful and not so. But your body is ‘lesser’ than mine. Mine is strong and weathered but yours is more so. Stronger, more experienced, more marked by the sun and more crippled by the weight of humanity. But as mine stands separate from authority, your hands are stamped on by those that hold power and your eyes know to be shielded as to not catch the eyes of those reprimanding you. How did you get this way.
Your dirty calloused fingers wrap around a tattered cup and your back is bent and crippled. Your voice is quiet as you beg for the dignity stolen from you. But his body is labeled superior. His arms are only strengthened by regimented activity, but humanity embraces him. He grasps your cup of pleads and puts it under his boot, kicking again and again and again in your face, its shredded pieces falling in front of your rag doll body. His arms drag you up, easy. You don’t resist. You know much better than to do so. His voice loud and screaming from the encouragement of society sends your tired body away. But where, where does your body go? Nobody likes your body. Your body is dangerous. Your body knows there is no authority. Your body knows it is stronger, more experienced, superior. The opposite of designated authority holds real power. Yet you don’t fight back. Your body is invisible.