Begin

Where do I begin to love again?

Not in a stranger, not in a friend.

But here, in the mirror that stares me down,

I learn to rise though I’ve nearly drowned.

I trace the glass, I see my face,

The lines of sorrow, the fragile grace.

And slowly I whisper, soft and thin:

I will love myself every inch of brown skin.

The body I cursed, the weight I’ve worn,

The stretch of years, the marks I’ve borne

All of it mine, all of it true,

The story of me etched clear and new.

I learn to love the flaws I’ve named,

The quiet shame, the hidden blame.

The past that broke me, the hands that shook,

The mistakes I made, the paths I took.

For each scar holds a tender song,

Each bruise has carried me along.

My mistakes, my trials, my tears, my fears,

Are proof I’ve lived through countless years.

I learn to love the child I was then,

The one who fell down, got up again.

I am the reason I stand here still,

With a softer heart, with a deeper will.

Each morning I wake, I try once more,

To open my heart, to keep the score.

Not of failures, not of pain

But of the love I choose to claim.

I love my laughter, I love my cries,

I love the fire that burns in my eyes.

I love my mistakes, I love my past,

I love the human who arrives at last.

So I look in the mirror, I let it begin,

I love myself every inch of my skin.

Where do I begin? I begin with me,

With body and soul, with all I see.