I’ve been inspired by the blog posts that other bloggers have been posting, especially those involving poetry. I am usually the type to write poems that rhyme or even limericks, bringing it back to 4th grade English with Mrs. Broom. However, there’s something really beautiful about non-rhyming prose.
When I first moved to Phoenix after living in Japan and being on a “soul-searching-discovery-life-hiatus” adventure, I attended an event through Meetup. I had met some new people at an open mic Meetup, and was invited to check out an event the following week at this community center. The premise of the event was that anyone could go on stage and perform music, read poetry, act out a skit, etc. It was an amazing experience and opportunity to share in the truth and art of strangers, some really striking a chord, others opening my eyes to the pain and suffering that some people had with their identities and personal experiences. Some of the slam poetry and spoken word really moved me, and it got me thinking about some of the struggles I have faced, some I think everyone has experienced in one way, shape, or form in their lifetime. To whomever stumbles upon my words, know that you aren’t alone in your struggles of self-love and identity. No one is perfect and we shouldn’t be hurting ourselves and/or others in the process of trying to attain an impossible goal. We are all beautiful in our different shapes, sizes, identities, goals, cultures, and colors. Try to appreciate and embrace that which makes you unique. Thank you for being you and thank you for reading my words.
“Progress, Not Perfection”
Progress, not perfection.
Each day is a battle.
The stumble, rumble, bumble of the
Consumer driven society
Of religious piety
Of propriety in a product that’s supposed to
Change your face
That’s supposed to change your hair
That’s supposed to slim your waist.
And if you don’t fall in line,
Then you don’t fit the size
That you are supposed to conform to.
Instead of progress you then focus on
On sexualized standards
That idolize a size 2, rather than a size
Real Life Woman.
And then you hate the way you look,
The way you smell,
The way you smile,
The way you try to eat a healthy meal,
But your belly grumbles because you’re too
Humble to ask for another slice of pie.
But stop! Who are you living for?
What is the story behind those eyes
For the longing of approval, the longing for a smile?
But who’s smile?
The tv ad, the boy next door?
The child in your arms?
The hands and the hearts you will heal in the future and now?
And how about yourself?
The words echo in my mind,
‘Be kind to yourself.’
You act to please others
But what about yourself?
You show mercy and kindness to others,
But what about you and your needs?
Why are you neglecting your self-worth
And your hopes and dreams?
Why are you choosing them instead of you?
Why do their opinions matter more than your own?
When you sit in a dark room,
Who else is present other than yourself?
That is the reality I must face.
That is the truth I seek to to find in every
Imperfection, dimple, wrinkle, line.
That is the kindness I want to emulate
Back onto myself.
I am worthy.
I am worthy.