I close my eyes, wanting to look upon my soul- searching for the truth of who I am. My flawed mirror, untrustingly- it portrays the vision I put before it; dressed up, covered in the outer sense of splendidness, groomed with colored lips and manicured brows…. But not today shall I take a look– for within the mirror of my inner self, I prayed for a washing that I may dress up my soul.
~~I’m beautiful, rather I’m pecan brown, ebony tinged, red, or the whitish of hue. I’ve looked inside- and that’s where real beauty shines.~~
I’m Like A Freshly Picked Flower
I’m like a freshly picked flower……I come alive, transpired from the holding of my hand- smiling, acquainting your beauty holding within a vase. I’m vibrate and significant. I feel warmth- nestling with the caressing of arms about me- liken unto the sun that wrapped its rays upon your thriving stems….I’m free to show beauty instead of dying petals fallen.
I’m wanting to blossom, like the budding and winsome flower bursting out of its beginning stage. I’m content to stay alive, shown the kindness of benign hands and loving hearts. The dripping of water filling my thirst, like the un-parching of lips from the moistening mist of dew drops that glisten.
Will the earth always yield its sheltering, guided from love cast down from above my head? I’m set before the world, hoping it will behold my inner beauty; and with the same beholding eyes, perceive an outer shinning of that same beauty. I’m only here for a season of life, picked and nourished by God. Love me as the sweet fragrance of your desired flower, freshly picked and given for a smile. I’m like a freshly picked flower; I’ll flourish within your compassion.