Poetry

I am not beautiful.

I do not know what I am,
but I know it is not comparable to

the open night sky.
I am not beautiful and

do not tell me otherwise.

I have heard creatures sing to the earth, 

play on ponds and blades of grass.
The wind whistles, 

the heavens weep and 

I watch the living pass.

I have sunk in the deepest oceans,
still you have not felt it free.
I have seen this beauty all around and

I know it is not in me.

I have felt the crushing weight
of a child gone too soon.
I have also metronomed a heart that has outlived all the room.
I saw the tears in her lover’s eyes as we agreed that life was through.

I watched these souls departing and

I know that it was true.

Do not tell me that I inspire

the roses parting bloom.

I know I am not beautiful and you

may fight it all you can.

Trust me and you will see,

you will know and understand.


I am not beautiful, still,

there is so much more to be.

The constant threat of beauty

is not held over me. 



©JRJ2016

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