This is my body.

The one you can see.

Conceived in temporal draws.

Pushed by a mother and bred by a father, with wounds like yours.

A family of thorns,

are cuts of nourishment for youthful souls.

The sun is our folly.

Our inheritance of love,

Marking our skin,

We rise above.

What glory passes through?

The space of your tomb,

If I looked into your eyes,

Would I see I?

Or Y.O.U?  

Photography by ndidi iroh