I am grateful for my body, even when it fails me,
for my life, even when it’s a misery and doesn’t feel like real living.
I
am grateful for my strength, even when it fades; my wit, even when it flags;
the heartbeat that keeps me alive, even
when it races.
I
am grateful for my sight, both inward and outward, even while it blurs;
the lungs that allow me to breathe, to laugh, to talk, to sing, even when my
voice cracks with exhaustion and emotion.
I
am grateful for feet that bear my weight and move me forward, even when they cramp, and the muscles that keep
me active, even when they ache.
I
give thanks for teeth that allow me to speak, smile and chew, even though they
are both sensitive and chipped; the backbone that keeps me upright, even when
my shoulders hunch in frustration and my neck aches with tension.
I
give thanks for my tears that sometimes pour like rain —
or sometimes dampen like dew, because they show that no matter what,
no matter how I might physically feel—
or the manner in which I might think about
myself or others — I still care.
Ronda R. Scott-Marak
© 21 April 2018
