There is this liminal space between bodies, the ones we incarnate into over and over again.

The threshold where we may not get to choose gender or culture, limbs or features, or perhaps even the narrative that will earth our bodies into that experience.

The fragrance and color of our hair, the width of our bellies, the flexibility of our aging joints, the health of our tissues and organs.

The smile we may or may not have upon reflecting in a mirror.

The narrative that will pursue us until we evolve into acceptance of each and every cell that has chosen to partner with our spirits.

In that liminal space, you don’t expect illness or injury, harm or pain.

We hope to be protected, embraced in a soothing portal of infinity where we reside with a holiness incapable of suffering when we reenter the earth realm.

These bodies.

Whether we choose them or not, they exist to carry us through this realm.

Each cell yearning for a gentle humanity where every body is respected and honored.

Each cell receiving even the slightest touch from another as grace moving fluidly between the heavens.

These bodies become our home as long as God wills it.

A form bestowed upon us to cherish for all time.

Treat them with the respect as the Divine would have it.