Who decided what beauty is?
In the dictionary,
it is called pleasing to the senses,
To me, it is when a rescued animal
curls up to you for the first time,
or the smell of rain
teasing the heat wave,
or choosing to wear my glasses today.
Who decided what beauty isn’t?
Because I have never felt uglier
than after listening
to conversations judging
the face of a human
with a sparrow’s voice or when
reading opinions admonishing
of someone whose best friend
once told them they were enough.
Who decided what is pleasing?
Because I love
being draped in baggy, frayed
jeans and remnants of yesterday.
I bathe in mud instead of
milk. I walk the path of
could instead of should.
Who decided we must
than how we wake?
just learning to walk,
college students who forgot
how to sleep,
and aging bodies
just as terrified as the younger?
You could teach me all the
latest trends for covering
but I will always decide
they are not.
Because what I find pleasing
is the raccoon snuggling
her kits in a rotten tree trunk.
Beauty is the first time
to be vulnerable and is answered
It is knowing I can wear
the red dress or sweater instead.
There is nothing more wholesome,
than a body who knows
they can simply exist.
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