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You are Miracle

You are Miracle | A Chronic Voice

Whenever I need a good dose of inspiration, this poem by Thuli Zuma never fails. It reminds me that I am a human being just like anyone else, and that we are all living miracles.

I visualise the *90 trillion cells hard at work inside my body. The collective intelligence they hold is beyond that of any doctor’s or scientist’s. I picture them bustling up and down the streets of my veins. Off they rush to repair a broken down body part, or extinguish yet another fire kindled by accident.

They are hard at work even, no, especially, when I am asleep, and I don’t even have much of a clue as to the expanse of their efforts. For example, if you cut your finger, observe its healing process over a few days and really think about it. It’s downright amazing what you can actually do without any conscious knowledge or extra effort.

So yes, despite being ill all the time, and all the rogue cells that send off constant false alarms, I am still in awe at the intelligence contained within my body. I know that it never meant to hurt me on purpose and that it is always, always trying its best – more than you can imagine.

You can view the recital here:

“90 Trillion” by Thuli Zuma
Even on your worst days
When there is nothing fair about enough
And you feel you do not come close to it anywhere.
When you cannot bring yourself to say the words you mean
Let alone mean the words you say.

When your hips are wider than your waistband
And the size of your gut does not
Reflect the measure of your courage.
On the days you find shadows everywhere
Except yours beside you.
When your hands only hurt even though you
Wish them healed.
When your feet forget how to walk
Act as though they have never known dancing.
And your thighs remember only shape.

On the days you feel you cannot possibly hold up your own name.
That even on the days that you are not
You are more than the sum of your worn parts.
More than timid fingers that clench fists.
More than wrists.
More than back that knows only ache.
More than treacherous blood
That bids heartbreak.
More than eyes, lips, nose, teeth.
More than unreached goals.
More than midweek drunk.
More than misplaced keys.
You are miracle.

And on the days when even the
Voices in your head will not agree.
You are still 90 trillion cells holding together.
Building up life
Willing you be.
You are harmony.
A celestial symphony.

This is not a metaphor.
It is a statement of fact.
And on the days you have strength only enough to stand
Stand on that.
What is it you hope to gain by folding your frame
To fit man’s palms?
Do not make yourself small as regret
When you are large as hope.

Do not see yourself slight for serpent tongues to misquote.
Eyes were not made for this
To hang down in shame.
They were purposed to see
So look.

You are human being.
So called for a reason.
Not human doing.
Just you being
Is wonder enough to make heaven fall still.
You are miracle.

A quilt of dreams stitched together with
Blood, bone and limb.
And even on those dark days
Though the voices in your head will not agree.
You are not defect
You are not damaged
You are not default.

You are not sorry and you should not be.
You are miracle.
You are harmony.
You are 90 trillion cells weaving new tapestry.
Each one testifies to the mystery
That even on the worst day
Even at your worst
You are still your best
You are miracle
You are miracle
Why is it you insist on walking through this life
As though you are any less?

*Your mileage may vary!

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Whenever I need a good dose of inspiration, this poem by Thuli Zuma never fails. It reminds me that I am a human being, and that we are all living miracles. | A Chronic Voice


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