Johneta Ohler Poet Spoken Word

Still Sacred

They judged my body
like it was evidence.
Like it was proof
I was less than.

They never asked
what this body survived.
What this spirit carried.
What this mother endured
while still showing up
every damn day.

I bled in silence
and called it strength.
I prayed with shaking hands.
I begged God
to make me smaller,
so I would be easier to love.

That’s the kind of damage
the world does
when it teaches a woman
her worth
lives in her appearance.

But I am not built
by their opinions.
I am built
by survival.
By prayer.
By ancestors
who did not break
so I could doubt myself.

There is something holy
about a woman
who has been through hell
and still chooses softness.

There is something dangerous
about a woman
who finally knows her worth.

If you could not love me
when I was tired,
triggered,
healing,
still learning how to breathe
you do not deserve
the power
I am becoming.

You do not get
to dishonor the storm
and then expect
to inherit the peace.

I was sacred
when I was breaking.
I was sacred
when I was doubting.
I was sacred
before I ever believed it.

And now that I do
I am no longer asking
to be seen.

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