freedom was
understanding
appreciating
adoring the beauty of
these worn fingertips
paint stained clothes
clay on my face
evidence that these hands
this mind
these eyes
are capable of creating beautiful things
out of color and mud.
Freedom is
loving these dirty parts of me
despite what others might see
I don't need a man's
affection
to help me understand.
I simply must
open my eyes to the beauty
that is me
just as I adore the intricacy
of the wild,
the sea,
the trees,
the beauty of other human beings
I must learn to love every part
of this woman God created.
I too am His masterpiece.
- the artist
YOU ARE READING
Letters to the Old Soul
PoetryThis book was written for the girl with an old soul. my journal full of memories and stories; These poems are honest and true of the wonders and scary things that occur in life as one grows older. These are the documents that illustrate the evolutio...
