Ode to Self

8 Apr

Looking in the mirror
The face staring
Back at me,
Asking, “Am I beautiful?”
“Do you love me?”
At first, I dodge the pleading stare
Preferring instead
To allow another
More capable to respond
Day after day
It continues
–a cruel game of love unrequited—
A desperate charade.

I emphatically await the mysterious other
Who will render judgment
And finally put the poor creature at peace
Someone who will look upon her
And see her truth.
One day
I’m sick of the routine,
Of the daily, monthly, annual performance
Of her asking
And me ignoring.

I stop.
Meet the mirrored image’s eyes.
And surrender my honest opinion.
I tell her,
She has diamonds in her eyes,
Plains in her forehead
Mountains in her cheeks,
And oceans on her lips.
That she is a sight to behold
–a force with which to be reckoned—
And that anyone who doesn’t marvel at her sight
Is simply unworthy of seeing it.
She smiles.
And for the first time in her life
Feels beautiful.


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