When I discovered this poem posted in a change room
I stood there, half naked, with tears welling up in my eyes.
It moved me and I hope it does the same for you.
Beneath The Sweater And The Skin
How many years of beauty do I have left?
she asks me.
How many more do you want?
Here. Here is 34. Here is 50.
When you are 80 years old
and your beauty rises in ways
your cells cannot even imagine now
and you wild bones grow luminous and
ripe, having carried the weight
of a passionate life
When your hair is aflame
with winter
and you have decades of
learning and leaving and loving
sewing into
the corners of your eyes
and your children come home
to find their own history
in your face
When you know what it feels like to fail
ferociously
and have gained the
capacity
to rise and rise and rise again.
When you can make your tea
on a quiet ridiculously lonely afternoon
and still have a song in your heart
Queen owl wings beating
beneath the cotton of your sweater.
Because your beauty began there
beneath the sweater and skin,
remember?
This is when I will take you
into my arms and coo
YOU BRAVE AND GLORIOUS THING
you’ve come so far…
I see you
Your beauty is breathtaking.
Jeannette Encinias
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