Beauty

This is a poem I wrote some time ago, I had it on one of my poetry sites. I don't feel this way so much any more. I don't really know when , but I know a change in me came. Round about the time I started knitting, and quit the religion scene. I don't feel as hopeless, and unloveable now. I think alot of it has to do with letting go, letting go of thoughts other people put upon you, and the stigmas they put agianst you. Letting go of unlive-uppable standards given by mothers, husbands and most importantly Yourself. Beauty is a state of mind. I just thought I'd share it.



I see beauty all around me,

the smile of a child with an icecream, dancing in the sandy playgrounds

a bird on the water glistening in the sun, soaring high in the clouds

the veins of a blade of grass, or a flower blooming proudly

interior beauty of a kind man/woman opening the door

or helping put away groceries for an elderly person

a picture, a song, a book

why don't I see the beauty in myself,

I know I can be kind, beautiful inside,

Yet I cry, feel insignificant and unhelpful

wondering at night, did I do what is right

while I should be sleeping, looking forward to the next day

does my child see my admiration, have I shown her all my love

or remember my impatient outbursts, and forget the happy times?

the voices of the past telling me I am not good, am not smart

they cloud my judgement and my dreams, no matter what I do they laugh and taunt me

I am an outsider, the other moms stand away from me, as if they see my imperfections.

I try, perhaps not hard enough , to be their friend

yet alone I sit, at parties, recitals and games.

I think will my child do the same one day

or will she be better than me in my emotionally stunted friendships

only here physically apart do I find friends, I wonder why

do I exude some physical sign of abnormality, not in my face but manner?

like the caste less of ancient times

untouchable, odd ,unmistakably different

until I know for sure the cause and cure

I still have cookies to bake, rooms to clean,

Life goes on, full of tastes, smells and endless chores to keep me busy

until the night when I wonder again have I done enough

am I beautiful now? at least to those I love most.


copyright bitches.( but you can share it if you put it as mine)