Listen, sister, for this talk unsettles me. Stop here. Because
You are not the sum of things you have made.
You are not the sum of others' judgements, opinions - no.
You are a connection to the Creator, a crooked pencil
Whose graphite stores the power of a thousand sketches.
To be beautiful is to love - that's the simplest truth, no
Matter the purity of your pores, the brilliance of your teeth,
To be beautiful is to love and let the love glow through
Your pockmarked skin, hair and all -no
Need to be the smooth golden-legged Venus - and
Your abdomen with the soft pillow between the muscle and epidermis, darling -
None of this can obscure your soul. A Roman nose is no
Hindrance, freckled skin no filter, for your unadulterated soul.
You needn't settle, settle in, settle down, to comfortable misery,
to constant aching, to hating - you can change.
Change your mind. Change your habits, change your attitude, grow - but, no,
You cannot be another. No body's yours but your own
And its inabilities, limitations - What are those! No
Mistakes, no objects for derision and bemoaning, but
Careful orchesrations tuned by a designer to give
Outline to your life. They can teach you, if you let them - no
Surgery or diet pills required. Lies, the magazines, lies, the movie scenes
Where the sculpted beauties pretend to be ordinary lives
You need none of those things advertised, scrutinized.
Your love is all that's needed.
and nothing else need be obliged.