In the blue-green meadow

of my silent soul, 

scorpion grass - 

dormant for decades,

now grows wild and free, 

sustaining me, 

spreading love

for the aching world

to behold its beauty.  

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“You’re beautiful!”

I’m sorry what?

“I said, you’re beautiful”

Why are you lying?

“You have amazing hair!”

It’s really not

“But it’s so curly.”

It tangles, it snares

I wish it straight.

“You’re  beautiful!”

I’m sorry, I’m not

“But you are!”

Why do you lie?

“Your skin is flawless.”

It’s make-up

“I’m sure you don’t need it.”

You can’t se...

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