In the spirit of who we choose to be and who we are as apposed to what we perceive others to see us as, I ask myself the question of who I am, really.
I feel pain as well as happiness. I feel joy and I feel sadness. I also look at myself every day and wonder what the “#@&*” is going on. I ask my self and answer all at once. I am not to be compared to or aspire to be, but hope to parallel a figure that is real and that is me.
May every curve on my body be representative of what feeds not only my emotions but my inner beauty. It’s Gods way of sculpting a handle so that the men we stand next to, don’t fall, and the children we bare can be nestled and safe
And may you laugh at how descriptive and explicit my wrath can both feel and sound, for I am built of pestles from a flower so delicate to the touch, but like every rose, not missing any thorns.
When called for, I can pour a gallon of water out of a 6oz glass that is half empty, and spare a drop or two. Nothing magical or extraordinary, simply phenomenally brilliant as any woman would do in any crisis.
Underestimating my strength and intellect only fuels my ambitions.
With every turn and bump and door that closes, I am enlightened by a window that pours light creating a shadow that emphasizes my refection, (my body), of which I am, and will always hope to be, and embrace no matter what the size or the shape, so long as I continue to grace the style and the face of which I have created in this place as a woman.
I am real, and as I grow to accept it, I will continue to strive for the unnatural, and race Mother Nature, but in the end I respect who I am and will not compromise my spirit of who I am becoming.
Daring to aspire to new heights and able to achieve new horizons and even though the rain my fall, she claims it as her own, accompanied by a symphony of lightning and an alarmingly powerful thunder showing its applause.
She weighs in at a million plus and stands above adversity, falling oh so short of incompetence, and carries an excess of generosity.
From head to toe, she is a reflection of beauty, poise and glamour. Beauty that doesn’t wash off, and poise that needs no balance, and glamour that would put a diamond to shame.
Very seldom does the sun ever rise catching her unprepared and very rare does the sun ever set not having completed every task.
[More poems by alumnae]
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