Imperfectly Perfect ©Dawn Minott

On By Dawn MinottIn Poetry

Mirror, mirror on the wall
not for vanity at all
but for reflection’s call
Now the whispers grow louder,
not from the world,
but from within.

It was never just about beauty.
Not the tilt of your chin,
or the grace in your walk—
but the fire in your voice
when you finally stopped asking for permission.

You look back
not with regret,
but with awe
at how far you’ve come.
Bearing the stories of survival,
You thrive
Not confined
to the borders drawn by others.

They can stare.
Let them.
Their curiosity can’t contain you.
Their silence can’t stop you.

You are light,
and shadow,
and the spectrum in between.
You are allowed to take up space.
To be loud.
To be seen.
To simply be—
the imperfectly perfect you.

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Image Facebook/unknown source

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In creative solidarity, Dee

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