The Atlas of My Beauty

Where should I begin?

No one wants a world tour where you see all the ugly parts

So this won't be much of a tour.

But let's pretend that in this world -

Me -

There is no ugly.

We will just call it all beauty instead.

So Look.

Look at me.

I am afraid, I will not lie.

I fear being fully seen.

I am constantly reeling

And feeling

And stealing from my wells of confidence

And pouring out the water

Until they are all run dry

And then I wonder why

I cannot look others in the eye

Without thinking "wow I

am so much less than they are."

But this is a lie.

I will not eat the tainted food I give myself

Because I am more

I am more

I am more

Than the roses left on the stage after the show

And the breath of air before a scream

And the glass shards from a broken figurine.

So it's time

for me

to begin.

Where shall I start?

I will start with the reflection in the mirror

With her little nose and soulful eyes

With her perfect hips and perfect thighs

And stomach that should not be labelled as fat

Because remember, I'm a woman, and we are made like that.

My hands are made for creating

For elating and relating.

My lips are made for loving

and telling and welling

with words of truth

And this is why

I will not lie

About me to myself.

My surface has scratches and scars -

the results of a natural disaster.

Every world has those, right?

Those matter but

they are not everything.

Just as clouds are not the sky -

Stars are.

I am painted with stars

And oceans in my veins

Roots of life grow through my brain.

A wise man once said:

"I don't know who I am but I know who I'm not."

And I'd say I have to agree.

I am not clean-cut perfection

but I know that I am me

And that is a different sort of perfect

Less clean

Less clear

Less cosmetology

My etymology is derived from

The way the wind feels filling your lungs

And the sound of songbirds

And the breathy hum of a record player

And the woodsmoke smell in hair

I am all these things

Constant perfection

Fear of rejection

Continuous projection of

Evidence of living and trying and breathing and needing

Because that is what it is to be me.

I am beautiful; this is true.

I think I look an awful lot like you.