So they say it’s kind of like being a body

That we’re all connected together but we have different parts to play

Eyes can’t see without hands that can’t move without feet

Each one with a different role to play that allows us to function as we were intended

Roles that we were designed to fill, that we can fit into perfectly if only we can find out what we are.

Maybe we are eyes, looking forward, examining things, finding what lies ahead for each of us

Maybe we are those ears, listening to others, processing perspectives that may not be our own

Maybe we’re a thumb, helping to hold on to things that we can’t bear to let go.

Maybe we’re a stomach, taking things in, breaking them down, making them possible to consume and provide energy.

But what Paul didn’t talk about is the days where you feel like an appendix.

Feeling like no one understands your purpose.

Maybe you don’t quite get it either.

That you feel like you’re an unsung hanger-on.

But even in those days, there’s a purpose.

The appendix is a safe-haven for the bacteria that help out in digestion, in taking the food and drink that we take in and turning them into energy

When they get pushed away from their homes by some outside force, the appendix welcomes them in.

And I know this is a little more gut science than you find in most poetry but it needs to be said that even this organ that for the longest time seemed to exist only to cause pain and be removed has value, has a purpose, has a reason to belong to the body.

And on those appendix days, I hope I remember that. Sometimes it takes a long time to discover a purpose, a reason to realize you belong, but that doesn’t mean it’s not there.

The body needs all of us, no matter what we decide we are.


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