Chin up.

Chin down.

Like bowing my head might shield me

from their piercing gaze,

their judgment circling the mess—

This mess I’ve been given called a face.

____

Hands over my face,

if only this moment could swallow me.

How can I vanish

in these desperate times?

These times, those times—

times of my past,

still sending shivers down my spine even now.

_____

Even as my jaw stayed pressed to the floor,

ashamed of the storms raging around me.

a whisper would escape—

From my voice, the voice of my mind

low and dark,

Whispering back the harsh critics making sure i never forgot any of it

my body betraying me,

each part incompatible,

flawed, uncared for.

_____

Chin down,

like a slouch might make me smaller,

as though shrinking could hide me.

____

A pre-teen girl,

told her height was too humongous for a lady,

curving herself inward, folding herself away.

_____

But deep down,

despite the slouch,

I still wanted to be seen.

It was part of my core as a human

To long to be seen despite the intensity of my flaws.

Because what is a life spent hiding?

What becomes of a soul left unseen?

_____

Now, I lift my chin up.

I see the light breaking through—

all that was hidden

revealed in its brilliance.

Down deceived me,

kept me blind to the beauty I now embrace.

_______

Chin up. Shoulders square.

I rise for the girl who slouched in shame.

I rise for the people still bending,

Still breaking,

Still trying to fit into their small, cruel boxes.

______

To you, I say:

Rise. Stand tall.

The world has room for every inch of you.

Let them see all of you.

To you i say, chin up.