by Ravin
I’ve learned to hide shame
in the folds of my skin
To curse my round middle and double chin
Only to be told that I am beautiful
Yet the measure of my beauty seemed
to be weighed on broken scales
I’ve been nurtured to value only
That which can be objectified
To celebrate only
What can be lusted after
But not to despair
Because I could choose
Not to care
To defy the measure that was handed
To declare my body beautiful
Yet soon I found
This declaration was only a claim
That I too, am worthy of objectification
An affirmation
Of what I learned before
Disguised in disregard
But maybe I’ve been lost in the fog of a lie
Maybe the marks on my skin
Are not tiger stripes
But simply a mark that I am stretched
A reminder of the One whose image I bear
Who was also stretched
The One who is Beauty
and yet was not beautiful
This body, unremarkable and unbeautiful,
Is set apart
Marked by a beauty of a different order
Not one that accesses value
By the acceptance of others
Not one that is loud
In its reckless indifference
But one that was
forged and fashioned
for another
Intricately designed to be
Self-giving
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