Women

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Her name is ‘Beautiful,’
her heart shines openly.
Oh she is beautiful.
Her eyes grow bright
in sweet delight,
feasting on life’s intricacies.

She burns with love
and dances free,
in a twirling skirt,
in the open sea.

Her heart is life’s pride,
as she nurtures fiercely.
Children, animals, plants,
she holds to her breast,
as she lets life
in soft surrender
rest.

But no more beautiful is she,
than when she is at peace,
encircled in nature’s sweet serenity.

Oh irenic!
Your soul becomes at ease
as she lets all anxiety
be enveloped
overwhelmed
by her delicate beauty.

Soft curls cascading,
her smooth skin cooling.
She smiles
and you soar.
For she is the incarnate form
of tenderness and mercy,
of deep unveiling mystery.

My darling, she is you.
My darling, my sister
my bride, you.
See she was left desolate,
called unlovely

Her heart was broken,
fear awoken
her soul raped savagely.

She stood alone
in tattered clothes
and wept so bitterly.
Her daddy never loved her,
her husband called her names.
Her world went grey in pain
and she became ugly
as all her beauty waned.

But she is.
Oh she is and longs to be
Beautiful
and offer it freely.

So tear apart the scars
smash the façade.
Open up the wounds
and welcome all the pain.
Embrace the ugliness.
Lure the beauty as it lays.

Pursue her, romance her,
fight for her beauty
and it will pour like rain.
And life and love and healing
will name her
‘Beautiful’ again.

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