Written by Shelly Moore
I’m not as pretty as I once was
Doesn’t mean I’m any less desirable
In the eyes of someone, somewhere.
My body’s curves have changed their flow;
Births and surgical equipment upsetting its natural rhythm.
I find myself envying the young;
A place I had hoped to avoid for at least a few more years.
Envying those without the wear and tear of childbirth.
Envying those who cry not because they’ve had precious organs which once miraculously grew tiny humans, since removed and discarded like they are fruitless, worthless rubbish.
Envying those who haven’t experienced giving it all away in order to start over, more than once.
I’m still grieving; wearing my grief as uncomfortable armor.
The hefty weight of sacrifice snuffs my light at its source.
My mind is a fertile-soiled field of wildflowers fervently blooming with multi-faceted colors and ambrosial, intoxicating fragrance, but dulled by the armor’s protection.
I see happiness just around the corner for you.
Can you see it for me?