Poetry

Hallowed Ground

“My body is a temple. And a graveyard.
Equal parts light and dark.
It makes me real. Just like you.”

For the longest time, I thought my body was more of a graveyard than a temple. But I’ve since come to realize that most temples don’t exist without some kind of graveyard nearby. Maybe it’s because people want a familiar place to come back to, where they felt closest to whatever god they believed in, their loved ones would be close, too. Or maybe, it’s merely a convenience, knowing they are nearby.

So, perhaps my body is the temple and the graveyard — all in one. Because life is never that clean. Life is never without some scars. Otherwise, could we even call it living?

But my hallowed grounds are filled with graveyards — scars — memories — all those things that have defined me, good and bad, as I’ve grown. Though most of them are inhabited by demons, things that have reshaped who I became as a person — and a woman — not all of them are ravenous and rabid. They are evidence of my survival.

So yes, my body was never just a temple, because I’ve lived. I’ve survived. And to me, having a graveyard just adds a bit of character.

My body is a temple. And a graveyard. Equal parts light and dark.

It makes me real. Just like you.

© Sarah Doughty

I am hallowed ground.

Special thanks to Blood Into Ink
for publishing this piece,
and giving these words
a place to rest.

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14 thoughts on “Hallowed Ground”

  1. “Though most of them are inhabited by demons, things that have reshaped who I became as a person — and a woman — not all of them are ravenous and rabid. They are evidence of my survival.” I love the strength in this. Beautiful piece! 😀

    Like

  2. “My body is a temple. And a graveyard. Equal parts light and dark.
    It makes me real. Just like you.” How true and moving this is. I could read this every day and nod along. Thanks for writing this Sarah.Its a beautiful reminder of us survivors.

    Liked by 1 person

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