Woman

With elegance, with grace, she gave the silk permission to roll off her shoulders. The glistening magnolia at her feet, humbled. The silk had worn her for too long. Now, looking in the mirror she was seeing strength in that woman’s deep, shallow eyes. The mirror put before her a naked body, one which had never been loved. Every part of it so perfectly imperfect. The exaggerated facial features; eyes, nose, lips – victims of the world. The eyes looked back at her and showed her love. The lips gave meaning. Glancing over at the silk, she was free. She no longer needed that silk to carry her for she could carry it. Owning it with a sense of pride, no longer a victim of the material that had stripped her of her identity. After years of living, she was now ALIVE. The beating in her chest told her to stand up, look in the mirror and claim that woman. The woman who had never been claimed. She wrapped her arms around the woman and kissed, the shoulders, the hands, caressed the thighs. Sigh. Relief. The woman had been claimed... finally.