I let
my hands touch
m y s e l f
my stomach
back, breasts.
running warm skin
slipping down like honeysuckle on summer’s first night.
what for so long i only thought
o t h e r ’ s
could
claim
could approach and take away.
eye off, own in their enlarged hands.
hands so large they smother every pocket and pore my body is allowed,
too large, hands
t o o l a r g e .
a body i only minimised and hurt and
couldn’t touch.
even if my brain
in its state of altered eternity
forgot, muddled, pretended to
NOT
understand
what stranger’s hands that touched meant to
my body, that now
forever accepts, bows down
to those with no thoughts, no feelings, no trust
yet they
d a r e d
to
touch.
they don’t deserve what i don’t know. so now
somehow, now
i TOUCH
myself.
and own my legs that walk across
m o u n t a i n s
and arms that comfort those
who have also been touched by enlarged hands.
and my touch, my s k i n it is my own.
We acknowledge the Ngunnawal and Ngambri people, who are the Traditional Custodians of the land on which Woroni, Woroni Radio and Woroni TV are created, edited, published, printed and distributed. We pay our respects to Elders past and present. We acknowledge that the name Woroni was taken from the Wadi Wadi Nation without permission, and we are striving to do better for future reconciliation.