To the, eloquently, predisposed…this is how the story goes.
We judge you with a whispered tranquility and taste.
But when mindful of self, there is no saving grace.
Alone with loathing lonely.
Autonomous bouts of being dowdy.
And…
upon pondering…
this…
this…
is something you will never see…
dear Goddess, please take care of ME.
Outwardly, we touch the world with heart and hope,
style and vision.
But with reflection we prefer self detention.
What of these sacrifices to the Mother…
honor her to no other.
How savage am I when not using love as the daily guide.
A daily mirror predicts distorted images…
deliberate disdain…
a horrified internal self inflicted pain.
How can vigilant charity be a womanly way.
How can I be when self hatred begins the day.
So I ask the reflection,
what is the deliverance of self.
It is a different kind of danger.
One that cannot always be answered…by others.
As unique as the times past.
With a spell of mockery to the present.
Most always with frequently weighty anarchy.
Dear Goddess, upon a morning’s reflection…
help me to be mindful not judgmental.
Help me to be mindful not judgmental…let the peace begin with me.
