My body is
perfect and
imperfect and
black and
girl and
big and
thick hair and
short legs and
scraped knee and
healed scar and
heart beating and
hands that hold and
voice that bellows and
feet that dance and
arms that embrace and
my momma’s eyes and
my daddy’s smile and
my grandma’s hope and
my body is masterpiece and
my body is mine.
Renée Watson is a New York Times bestselling author. Her books for young readers have received several awards and international recognition, including a Coretta Scott King Award and Newbery Honor.
By Abdulkareem Abdulkareem
All things begin from the spindle,
we say—life spun from graces.
I grew like rain from rumbles of my parents’
cloud, a dark dawn, admitting growth.
In the beginning, I squeeze into existence with a head,
white, silhouette-like—formed from
the stomach of the hard earth on...
By Tea Gerbeza
I dip my paper strip in colours of scoliosis, white
my spine, mounted snow-covered
heart fields in the midground against rolling lung hills
the foreground, a gold crouching
sinew what I thought to be a ruin of stretched canvas
all whirls of grey, I carry...
By Abdulkareem Abdulkareem
All things begin from the spindle,
we say—life spun from graces.
I grew like rain from rumbles of my parents’
cloud, a dark dawn, admitting growth.
In the beginning, I squeeze into existence with a head,
white, silhouette-like—formed from
the stomach of the hard earth on...
By Sarah Crossan
If I were back in Gdansk, I wouldn’t be friends
With a new girl either.
If I still had Magdalena
To copy homework from
And sit with at lunch,
I'd ignore a new girl too,
Like we snubbed Alexsandra who stood
Far enough away
To be discreet.
Close enough...
