What if this soft, slippery round of bellycould contain laughter so freeit travels to your eyes as tearsto the tips of your toes.What if this bellycould grow peoplenot just onebut two whole peoplewith fingers stretching to the infinite worldeyes waking to the dream all around them.What if this bellyloved a meal with friendsover a long table of conversationlicking the marrow of life from your fingertips.What if this bellywas where you buried your sorrowsnestled into disappointmentshame and fear.What if this bellyresisted expectationconformitylike the time you refusedto standand pledge allegiance.What if this bellycould healfrom all that you swallowedthat never sat well.What if this bellycould be the seatof all you know to be trueall you hold closewith the wild rush of loyaltyand love.Would that be so bad?
Photo by Ihor Malytskyi on Unsplash