When I write poetry, it’s usually because I’m struck with a really vivid image of something. It was 3 a.m. and I was lying half asleep when a picture of this gorgeous girl popped into my head. Her features shifted, but every part of her remained vibrant and strong. Instantly, I wanted to transfer her existence into reality in the way I know best — with words. Along the way, this piece became a sort of ode to characteristics that society usually doesn’t attribute to beauty. I wanted to write about a girl who didn’t have sky blue eyes or wheat yellow hair or a thin nose and was still accepted as absolutely stunning. Regardless of what the flower crown filters on Snapchat might suggest, your features don’t have to look European for you to fit the definition of beauty.
Her eyes carry the warm brown of soil,
Rich and layered with life
That feeds life.
They are the color of the vivacity
That runs through her veins
And makes her heart go
Tha-thump.
She is alive, and she thrives.
Her hair is like tree bark,
Thick, course, strong –
Unyielding as her glowing spirit.
It whips around her face,
Unruly and volatile –
But when she locks eyes with that
Girl in the mirror,
She sees a lion’s mane.
She is a warrior by birth,
A force of nature.
Her skin is terra cotta –
Rich brown and freckled like the night sky.
“Dirty”, the halls whisper in her wake.
But her skin is a smooth suit of armor
Donned every day
Into the unassuming battlefield.
A symbol of all she has accomplished
Against the odds,
A testament to her resolve.
She walks into the world
On callused feet,
Tread light, unnoticed.
But I see her;
I see the fire in her eyes and the
Spunk in her steps.
She treads with intent
To touch the sky
With all the magic she quietly spins.
I see this wonder girl –
Can you?
