Zodiac

The Bull

The Bull

•

When I was an adolescent, I covered the mirrors in my house in thick black.

Like our ancestors would cover the portals when the dead came lurking,

Would guide the newly departed to the beyond,

And free them from the trap of dirt that consumes the years of life.

I hid them all.

•

Because how could I possibly meet the eyes of my worthlessness?

How could I be expected to look upon something as crude as my face?

Or as insulting as my sexuality?

Who wants to see the reflection of a damaged woman?

Why would anyone want to multiply imperfection?

•

And as I grew into adulthood,

The family that raised me from infancy,

The friends that inspired me,

The icons that I wish were me,

Wrote lies on my heart with their branding iron -

The society that made me.

•

The slave of beauty, I have tortured myself in its name,

And I cannot even claim that I know what beauty looks like.

What beauty sounds like.

Smells like.

Feels like.

And I am punished because I cannot meet a standard that I cannot see.

A standard that doesn't exist,

But how could I ever be worthy of love if I cannot be beautiful?

Perfect.

•

I want to be a woman,

The endless eyes watching me demand the price to be paid in my blood.

And I spill it.

So I can be beautiful and worthy and cherished and loved.

I want to be loved.

•

So I empty myself,

And I am.

And he loves me.

•

And one day I know I will take my daughter into my arms,

And I will tell her of the lies our culture feeds us.

•

Beauty

Will cost so much more,

Than just your dignity.