To the survivors, to the thrivers, to the beaten-up and still standing. To the burdened, to the wounded, to the damaged yet still enchanting. To us the imperfect, to us of all shapes and all types and all sizes. To us who are perfect just the way we are.
To us who are real. To us the living, the loving who are loved.
Filters and faffing, selfies and self-esteem, perfecting the right image. Just the right outside, just the right mask, just the right visage. Seems odd to me how we fight this covid “mask war” imposition. While our selfie-mask needs each pixel to crafted perfected mask-precision.
I never understood fashion. I never got filters. I never get style (not even for a while).
I have lived a lifetime finding out not how to love you, but finally learning how to love me. And – oddly I think – having learned that I’m okay, I can now look at your imperfections in exactly the same way.
So celebrate who we are, who we’ve been, who we’ll become. Enjoy this moment and the next one not yet done. There’s one of me and that’s enough. Don’t need to be you or someone else. Just wastes time – all that perfect pixel “mask stuff”.
To the survivors, to the thrivers, to the beaten-up and still standing. To the burdened, to the wounded, to the damaged yet still enchanting. For accepting me as I am –
It’s you (and me) that I’m thanking.
This a wonderful piece of prose poetry with lovely intonation, speedy, galloping. Definitely “I am” and you most certainly “Are”
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Thank you Andrew ((hugs))
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