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Girl

She lives behind
The worn out eyes of the old widow,
Slipping out through the laugh lines
In a withered and weathered face.
Her laughter echoes,
Her smile illuminates the world.
She is the writer’s muse,
A mother’s secret,
A daughter’s promise.
This girl,
The fresh faced,
Curious, irrepressible.
Girl.
Beautiful girl.
Some want to shut her out,
Hide her beauty,
Quiet her spirit.
And it makes me angry. It makes me sad.
Righteousness demands it, they say.
But I ask, what is more Godly
Than a girl,
Arms spread wide,
Chasing down the wind,
Her spirit free.
Don’t hold her back.
Call her temptation.
Tell her she is
Damaged.
Don’t break her.
Celebrate her.
Uplift her.
Learn from her,
Follow her.
This
Girl.

2 comments:

hmsgofita said...

Beautiful poem! Wow!

diogenes said...

this resonates with me. poems for me like paintings touch all of us uniquely. My elderly mother is just now lying on her death bed. Sometimes when she speaks she talks of her youth running "like the wind" with her brother. Old, wrinkled but within a little, happy girl whose soul is still young. thank you

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who we are

Welcome to The Peacewriter.

We all want to belong somewhere, to someone. It is a basic human need.

If you have ever experienced a period of doubt or questioned your beliefs in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, you know that this is not a minor thing. It is tantamount to a crisis, and one that can be life altering.

Lose your testimony, and you stand to lose everything that matters.

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This is the place to share common experiences, to find a voice, to be heard. This is the place to seek after peace, and to find it in the common ties we share.

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