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The Death of a Body, the Birth of a Song
The Death of a Body, the Birth of a Song

The Death of a Body, the Birth of a Song

coffeesoakedshoescoffeesoakedshoes

My bones are hard and crude, and the soft skin of my limbs have been burnt on the stove, ripped on the pavement, scarred over and over. They are flawed, they are unwieldy, they possess a heaviness that I cannot begin to describe. My body is what propels me forward, allows me to hug, to dance alone, to turn my head and look at the stars. My body is both my chains and my saving grace.

I hope that when I die, my body will become music. My hands, nose, eyes, and feet which were once tangible will melt into something that cannot be touched or tasted, and yet still draws tears and brightens smiles. I will have a constant purpose and I will touch people in ways that we as people may not be able to while traversing the world. Would I be a melody that people sing while putzing in the kitchen, a sweet tune on the radio that stuck in their brain and whirls around, over and over? Would I be filled with heavy bass, riveting guitar, and a screaming voice that makes them feel heard and seen in their darkness and their despair? Would I be gentle, a flutter, the lightest touch that grazes someone’s cheek- a sadness cradled by warmth, a finger that catches their silent tears as they fall? Would I be comforting, would I be a fad and then disappear forever, would I give someone the love that is otherwise denied to them?

When I die, I hope my spirit will become music. I hope that I’ll be unfeeling and yet filled with more emotion than I will ever be filled within this life. I don’t need a consciousness- I fear what grief sentiment and longing could drive me to. I don’t need to be graceful, to be delicate. Gracefulness and delicacy are cumbersome, they’re harbored with judgments and standards that I needn’t have, and they’re not in my nature anyway. Most of all, they’re not filled with an intimacy with which I hope to approach the world. This intimacy is one where I am not afraid to deal with the uncomfortable, where I surround others in a hug just, on the off chance that they haven’t felt one in a long time.

I hope that I’m beautiful as music.

Author Notes: Just some thoughts I've been having :) I appreciate any and all feedback, thank you!

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coffeesoakedshoes
coffeesoakedshoes
About This Story
Audience
All
Posted
27 Nov, 2020
Words
387
Read Time
1 min
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