Shine On

I imagine
that if my sweaty, lithe body,
the outline of its every curve,
the scented aroma of its slippery surface,
the wet suggestion of its vast capabilities,
were offered up to the eyes of the faceless masses
without a single thought of you,
that we wouldn't be having the same conversation
on the other side of the coin.

The complete disregard...
Not only for the sanctity of your body to my eyes,
but for the time it took
away
from me.
Time, these days,
such a precious commodity.
A valuable treasure,
a holy gift from beyond,
consistently stomped on
like it were salt
or rain
or some other replaceable nothing.

Yesterday I told strangers
you give me everything I need,
and felt,
as I said it,
like a plant, fat with water.
And today,
thirsty again,
throbbing for light,
I turn my face upward,
only to be scorched;
the dry indifference,
the betrayal of the sun.

We
are supposed to be
an ecosystem.
I feed you,
you feed me,
and together we
grow beyond survive;
we thrive.

Too bad the sun doesn't see
how much his light means to the tiny plant below.
And she wonders:
would the sun still shine as bright,
still create life,
still be The Sun
if one day
she decided
just not to grow?