Body Truth Collective

The following poem, “Ode,” was written by Elizabeth Alexander. Alongside Maya Angelou, she is arguably the most prolific African American female poet of our time. In this poem, she affirms truth about women, specifically mothers — about who we are and what we do.

ODE

I love all the mom bodies at this beach,

the tummies, the one-piece bathing suits,

the bosoms that slope, the wide nice bottoms,

thigh flesh shirred as gentle wind shirrs a pond.




So many sensible haircuts and ponytails!

These bodies show they have grown babies, then

nourished them, woken to their cries, fretted

at their fevers. Biceps have lifted and toted




the babies now printed on their mothers.

“If you lined up a hundred vaginas,

I could tell you which ones have borne children,”

the midwife says. In the secret place or




in sunlight at the beach, our bodies say

This is who we are, no, This is what

we have done and continue to do.

We labor in love. We do it. We mother.



When I read this poem slowly, punctuating each word with a period in my mind, I hear the universal voice of women who have chosen to be mothers. I hear that courageous voice assert:

Lovely has permission to slack, slope, and be sensible.

Sacrifice is always something lost and something nourished.

Unfortunately, most women believe something different…that is not true — Our bodies speak entirely about who we are.

But some of us know better.  It is our responsibility to gently pause and then, of course, share the truth about our bodies.

Our bodies do not encompass the whole of who we are. Rather, our bodies more accurately say, “This is what we have done and continue to do.”

I encourage you to take a few minutes for yourself and slowly reread the words of the poem above. Maybe even read it a couple of times. You might be surprised by the voice that speaks truth into your heart.

How many years have you spent nourishing the dearest ones you love? And how has it caused your heart to bleed hurt? How has nourishing others, with your God given body, given you the opportunity to pour out love you didn’t know you had to give?

Can you count the number of cries you’ve woken to — the hunger cries, the bad-dream snivels, the sick in-the-middle-of-the-night fretting caused by sudden fever?

I’d love to hear what this poem awakens you to believe about the beautiful body you are serving in, today.

Father, in our battle to reclaim truth about what is beautiful, help us choose to celebrate who we are, what we have done, and how these bodies have sustained us to labor in love.

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I found this poem in a book my mom gifted me — a poetry anthology compiled by Caroline Kennedy, She Walks in Beauty. She has thoughtfully chosen poetry selections that are engaging and refreshing; I have reread this poem by Elizabeth Alexander probably more than one hundred times.