the work

December 14, 2017

Some of the mirrors
in my mind’s eye
are broken.

I’ve spent
too much time
trying
to get clean –

wiping
thumb prints
from my face,

covering
insecurities,

fixing
my hair,

not
fixing
my mind.

But,

to deny
what makes me
beautiful

is to deny
my mother’s
smile,

my father’s
eyes,

my future
grandchildren,

my grandmother’s
dark-brown skin,

my grandfather’s
hands.

I will learn
to see
these
reflections

in my
perfections.