Poetry

Worthy

We don’t have to convince the world

that we are worthy

of their love hearts.

We only have to convince ourselves

that we are worthy

of our own.

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A Blog a Day in May

The Stars Inside

The human might do well

to remember

that the body is an instrument

which can only be played perfectly

by the stars

that live inside of it.

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A Blog a Day in May

Everything I need

I close my eyes to the world

and then there is only me.

When there is only me

I can feel.

I can see.

I can know

everything I need to know.

And

when I need to know more—

I close my eyes.

And I come back

to me

again.

Back to the only one

who knows my answers.

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A Blog a Day in May

Beautiful

A face in the mirror; a gentle head tilt; a naked, swan neck.

Her fingers find the soft of her collar bone and drift upward: chin, cheek, forehead— every part of her, delicate. Like a bird, she thinks. The mirror shows her nothing new, and yet everything has changed.

Everything.

Because for the first time in her life, her beauty becomes her. This time, it hasn’t found her through the hungry eyes of a man, or through the careless words of a well-meaning shop assistant.

It’s found her from the softness of all that she is.

So this,

she thinks,

is what beautiful really feels like.

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A Blog a Day in May

Not Like The Others

There is a little girl

in me

who is trying to be

a big kid

just like the others.

Just like the others.

One day,

I think,

she’ll learn to be

happy

with just ‘being me.’

However different.

However ‘not like the others.’

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Poetry

How To Be Good

It’s funny

isn’t it

that the secret to becoming

a good Mum

a good wife

a good friend

a good human,

is to realise that

actually

there is no good or bad

anything.

Because what’s good

to her

and her

and him

may be absolute

nonsense

to the one who truly

believes

they know.

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Poetry

Imperfectly Me

This honest girl.

This kind girl.

This sweet girl.

This loving, gentle, patient girl.

She has been this girl forever.

This perfect human girl—how delightful she is.

How loved and cherished and needed, she is.

But.

If she is good, she is also bad.

If she is kind, she is also cruel.

She is every part of her whole.

Every beautifully broken part.

Imperfectly perfect.

Imperfectly me.

blue red and yellow chalk
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