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)