I am more akin to a Pablo Neruda poem
than a Georgia O'Keeffe painting.
I am full and fleshly.
My genitals do not look like a flower.
What if my partner does not like the way I look?
...the way I smell?
...the way I taste?
(What if I end up judging myself by the standards of church culture rather than the standards of the divine?)
What if these "what ifs" do not matter?
What if I open myself completely to whatever the moment holds?
What if I invite my partner to see in me that which I see in myself?
That I am beautiful, lovely, and worthy.
That I am powerful and mighty.
That I am tender and soft-hearted.
That I am the best there is
and I share myself freely with my partner
as a gift.
Never to be diminished
in either the offering or accepting.
Because I am still wholly me:
tender and soft-hearted
powerful and mighty
beautiful, lovely, and worthy.