Don’t tell me I am beautiful, for beauty only ever found me in the back seat of cars driven by boys who never knew my name.
Tell me instead that I am fierce and brave.
Tell me I am stronger than the house I once lived, where my skinny arms tried to stop the walls collapsing around me, and couldn’t.
Tell me my bones are made of steel rods and my body a leather wine skin; that I am toughened from the years yet still soft beneath your touch.
Tell me my teeth are sharp and jagged, and behind my eyes the spirit of my ancestors blaze the fury of their passion into my wildfire soul.
Tell me my heart is a grenade; that I am fragile and dangerous, a contradiction held safe inside the grasp of your fearless hands.
Tell me, as I come adrift in a world where I remain a girl with no name, that you see me.
Tell me I am more than beautiful.
Tell me I am more than I believe myself to be.
~ ©️ Kathy Parker ~