Our bodies are temples

Let us lay ourselves bare.

Our bodies are temples, grounds of worship in which we dedicate our lives to many things. Exercise, sustenance, alcohol and cigarette smoke; sharp cuts and medication. We are told from a young age to care for this temple, for it is how all people will perceive us.

My temple is war torn, scarred pillars drenched in amber liquid that catches a flame the moment smoke pours from the inside out. A place where vines would grow if only I could plant them in my body, but what cakes the cracked walls instead are crystalline blades of salt and sweet things. A grimy layer resides over it all, thick and coarse with regrets and missed chances, but these are the only things keeping my walls from caving in and letting in the light.

I see the temples of others -- fractured and aflame -- and I understand why we hide the smoke and desecration of ourselves; of the holy land we gathered our congregation upon. We want people to see us and be able to say we survived the worst of what the world offered to us, not the worst of what we offered to ourselves.

Reviews

[LukewarmLollipop]

in the last line of your second paragraph "these are the only things keeping my walls from caving in and letting in the light"... that line really resonated with me. I think you capture human flaws and why they're essential quite wonderfully in that line, and also throughout your work. I just wanted to comment to say I really enjoyed this!