Being beautiful…

Mirror mirror on the wall
I have this quest, unending
What is beauty afterall?
A naive mind questions, unrelenting

Do my eyes see beauty when
They find a skin fair and light?
Or is that merely my obsession
To follow an unfortunate stereotype?

Is it in a shape that competes
With symmetry itself for perfection
Or is that a flaw of a boxed mind
Struggling with limited imagination?

Reality is stark my friend
Beauty, that way, you cannot comprehend
Not in the eyes, but check in your head
Did you ever try to feel it instead?

In the innocence of the young eye
That has yet to see the real sky
In the scars on a scraped knee
From a playful childhood memory

In the dreams of youth
Fragile, but unbound
Of love, life and happiness
In a merciless world around

In a large silhoutte
and swollen feet
In the stretch marks
on a receding belly

In the darkened eyes
From sleepless nights
In the hands rocking
The cradle of new life

In the spirit of tireless hope
That shines through a face, defeated
Lifting it up in a renewed vigor
To face the world again, undaunted

In the wrinkles of wisdom
On a weathered old face
That has experienced, endured
And emerged unscathed

Beauty is eternal
Walking beside you
Waiting to be embraced
Waiting to be accepted

— Poet Mamma

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4 Responses to Being beautiful…

  1. Anonymous says:

    Nice work PoetMamma

  2. Anonymous says:

    Arundhati said… Great poem.. I hope the kids appreciate your point of view..

  3. Anonymous says:

    Very well said Poet Mama. Beautiful…!!! Love it.

  4. just so beautiful… here is a heart expressing what does true beauty meansSomeone is Special

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