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.

the womans room 2

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.

the womans room 3

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.

the womans room 4

So I ask the reflection,

what is the deliverance of self.

the womans room1

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.

the womans room 5

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.

 

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