I love myself most days.
This is a faith statement
as I struggle to look in a mirror
at a face fatter than ever
gut hungover, body not limber.
These are the horrible things
and more that are in my
head about me, child of
God, of Universe, of
Ancestors who survived
real horror and still,
I cannot believe my lover's
words that I am beautiful
or brilliant or anything
good. Why are we often
the ones who believe
the worst about ourselves?
No one has ever said--
at least to my face--
any of the negating
words that pound
inside my thoughts.
Self-hatred is a sin.
And I have been
chief among sinners
in this regard. Today,
by faith, I love myself
fiercely; I love the pug
freckled nose; the arms
that know the value
of squeeze; the mind
that thinks and sorts ideas;
feet that walk and run
when necessary, that
bare pain and keep moving;
legs that hold up the
weight of my whole body
and the weights of
my worry as well.
Tongue that speaks
truth even when my
heart is afraid,
a mouth that kisses
granddaughters and
lovers with the same
fervor; back that
sits up straight
when despair
could be my lot
My hair that is thick
and unruly, a
prophecy of who
I could always be
I love me when
I'm laughing,
and when my lips
are burnt from
prayer.
© Valerie Bridgeman
November 6, 2013
I have been chief among sinners too!
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