{My Body Talks}

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they say i’m beautiful.

i cringe.

how can this be beautiful?

really?

i long for the days gone past.

those days when i was lean and strong and fast.

oh to be young again.

the world tells me i should still look like that.

i tell myself i should too.

who decided these parameters?

who made them inner law?

why have i turned against myself?

i see now that i turned on myself before the beauty even left me.

i sometimes wonder if my eyes have lost their seeing?

if myself {this body} can ever sit still in its skin?

was the beauty hijacked by illusions and lies?

maybe its just in hiding but still here?

peace alludes me.

there is hate, so much hate in me.

i hate the softness.

i hate the places that go where they didn’t used to go.

but who decided the definition of beauty?

when did that change?

why?

this very week seven years ago i was a tomb.

a walking, breathing, living, tomb.

a week of carrying a baby my soul birthed.

my soul {she} depended on me.

i failed her.

four years ago this very day i failed her again.

yet another little one stopped living again in me.

my soul, she was in pieces once again.

she blamed me again.

i did the best i knew how to do.

i really did.

i’m broken.

bruised.

not who i was.

not who i will be.

can i accept myself as a beauty?

beauty by another definition?

beauty is beauty is beauty.

i am proud of birthing my soul two living children.

i did really good then.

but oh the ones that did not make it.

they haunt me.

they haunt every curve, every soft spot, every mark, every new place.

but could it be that my soul will find forgiveness?

will her anger dissipate some day?

i long for the day my soul no longer hates me.

no longer despises my every marking and moving.

my soul really believes she has no beauty left.

she feels used up and spent, her time done, over.

she longs to enjoy her lover again without reservation.

without blaming.

without remembering how i failed her terribly seven years ago.

she remembers the beauty before the death.

before the hauntings took over.

before death entered and exited where life was meant to.

how can my soul ever forgive me?

if i could have changed things i would have.

i didn’t know i was so broken, so in need of repair.

where do i go from here?

even my eyes are not the beauty they once were.

i loved my eyes.

now they seem hollow and tilted, and tired.

oh so tired.

is it possible for me and my soul to embrace me once again?

to love me?

to let me off the hook?

to not blame me anymore?

to treasure the gifts i have given?

to relish the miles we have come together?

to cherish the years we have traveled?

oh my soul, my beautiful old soul,

will you please love me again?

i’m dying without your love.

come back to me my soul.

{Hope Wood © 2014}

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