Poem – Page 71 – A (wise) man of two faces

The waxing moon 2

She bares her shoulder
so painfully slowly that
moments feel like days.

She shone.
Graceful through the pain,
she shone

The night swallowed her
inch by precious inch until
there was nothing left.

The family that comes together
can face the coming wintry weather
sheltered, safe, and warm
and persevere despite the storm.

She shined in the dark
by rising from the abyss,
growing full and proud.

Behind this stone mask,
can you see all of the tears
which I cannot shed?

“It’s never good enough,”
the voices whisper
in sinister symphony.

“Just give up,”
the night sings to me
in the silence between sobs.

Her little black dress
catches all the men’s eyes and
half of the women’s.

I’m thankful to the people
who showed me lessons in this life:
the importance of health and exercise,
temperance in the face of strife.

They taught me I should love myself,
so critical they taught it twice…
Oh, all the people I found wandering
who were living with the price.

Love was cursed for her:
it was a four-letter word
spat by bitter men.