Beauty
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
So perhaps it was not beauty that shone in the wrinkled face of my grandmother,
well past a prime she doesn't miss.
It was strength
Nor was it beauty on the face of my mother,
the rock of calm in my ocean of turbulent waves.
It was steadiness
Nor has it ever been on my sister's face
the one that looks just like mine
we who have known and loved one another our entire lives
This has always been joy
Beautiful is not the word to describe us all
Beautiful is becoming an object
It is the willingness to let looks define self worth
.
It is the belief tht self love is reliant on society's acceptance
.
It is the emptiness of someone saying you are beautiful
and not meaning you
discussing the shell you live in as if that would emcompass
y o u
The hardest lesson the women in my life taught me
was how
to love
myself..............................................................................