I am not a tiger

I am not a tiger,
Roaming wild and free
I am not a platitude, a tagline:
#bodypositive.

For this body has been 'lived-in',
S t r e t c h e d.
Distressed like an antique,
Tagged, tired, faded.
Ready for an upcycle
Cracked like an egg, that sat on a wall
Irrevocable.

No, I am a human comforter,
A trampoline,
A favourite seat, worn-in, cushioned and hard fought over.
I am a warm drink and a familiar smell wrapped in a creased paper bag,
A heavy woollen blanket to be wrapped up in,
Thick and snug on a crisp day.

I am a tree for climbing skyward, solid and steady,
Branches for balancing,
Roots in the dirt,
Boughs that hang heavy and low each night.

I am the rain that washes clean,
The soothing breeze on a knocked knee
I am the moon to pull you close
On the tides that rock.
I am warmth eternal and the deep roaring thunder,
I am the milk that flows and the heart that beats.

I am elemental.

No, I am not a Tiger, for I am as powerful and as vast as Mother and earth and all the depths of the seas.

Somewhere in this stillness, I long for "me".