Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
—————————————
I thought I was unduly bent
with the burden on my head
No heart had ears that understood
the tales my face had said

I thought the path had sifted me
away from smoother stones
Where everything is forsaken
and no one truly owns

I thought and thought and thought some more
till I no longer; saw
For eyes, that I knew not I had
widened to stirring awe

In tumblements, I had arrived
to the hall of cynosures
where souls lit up in endurance
and patience opened doors

Accepted for defectiveness
revered for differences
Collected, all, in being dispersed,
closer for distances

Had fate and path not made me, me
and storms made waves I ride
and then I took all I held in
and looked around, outside

It brings you. where you need to be
it gives, what you require;
To then, become what you were, always
waiting, beyond desire.

©️Arshia
13.7.2020
Tokyo

For unexpected realizations, I am #thankful
Sometimes the need is to look inside. Sometimes it is to look outside from the inside.
This poem arrived after I spoke to a lady whose daughter with special needs had passed away at age 25. Having lost my mother recently after a long illness and having a younger brother with special needs, I could talk about the challenges of disability, bereavement and so much more with her and I realised our shared experiences had brought us to a place where we understood and also stood apart.
Roy Jul 2014
She is worth more than the sight of a galaxy, worth more than the definition of beauty and imperfection. She is unnatural; her essence of beauty is a mental defectiveness, a deformity, for none of her lineaments exhibit any of those touching imperfections that reconcile us to the imperfection of the world. His gaze was fixed upon her as she felt un-ease. She could feel every piece of clothing on her fade as he undressed her  with his look. Having no regard for her being, keeping a lustful look upon her physique. A prey for his pleasure he sees her. He made the impression of an animal yawping for harmony.  
Yet he knows better than to pounce on her, searching within himself he finds a means imprinted deep upon his limbic stem. He studies patiently for her weakness, her innocence his first victim.
He tells her what she wants to hear, being careful with his selective half-truths. Guiding her gently to his already devised plan. Secluding her further from those close to her. His contagious condemnation made her emotions hunger for His lovable excrescence. He was desperate and without a word he infected her with an anxious sickness.
He couldn't help himself with mesmerizing thoughts, breeding words of his ***** desire; such words were made known to her through his eyes. For He desired to plunge his spear into her most precious sheath and play a game that fulfills a fierce urge that she can't deny. Her realization is too late. With none around to keep her from him. Knowing she is all at his mercy, he defile's her. Feasting upon her virtue, degrading her till she finds no esteem for her being; while she stands within the inconspicuous  pentagram of her own virginity. She is a never seen mirror, an unbroken egg, a sealed vas, a desired emotion, that made her magical; her magic made him, a slave. His touch both destroys and comforts her; she could feel his naked eyes roaring flashes through her thoughts with the urge of a beast, to strip her skin away and clothe her with his, and to drown her in the capacity of mirrored lust.
del Feb 2018
she calls herself
"damaged goods"
as if the past stains her future with ***** fingers
marking thoughtless insults on her forehead
for all to see and judge
as if her gaze is shrouded in darkness
only able to comprehend pessimism and bleakness
never able to find love
for she is broken beyond compare
as if her lips will never be able to find another's
for she is so repulsive none will touch her

she fears that strangers can see through her
thinly veiled paranoia
and her vision turns their bored gazes into accusing glares
silently judging her with every blink
she wants to crawl away
and pull her knees to her chest and cry
she wonders if her smiles,
stretched thin across her cheeks
are obviously fake
she wonders when her acting career will be up
and then she will be tossed onto the streets
her defectiveness obviously revealed
to an invisible crowd, watching and waiting
for her time to be up

she calls herself
"damaged goods"
because she cannot comprehend
how valuable she really is
the same way a sunflower brightens a desolate field
she brings laughter to the heavy hearted
she brings admiration from the shy
she brings comfort from the ones
just like her,
who are afraid to be themselves

— The End —