Into The Fire

I hate it
Nasty
Mishapen
Lopsided
Hours of my effort
Wasted
This product of my handiwork
Unworthy of me
In this pot I see
My failure
And I cast it aside
And behind me
A younger voice:
“Wonderful!”
I tell them: yours
Not mine
And they put my platter in the fire

I hate me
Fat
Old
Clumsy
Lop-sided
Hours at the gym
Counting calories
Abiding with piercing hunger
Sweat and tears
Wasted
I hear behind me
An Older Voice: “Beautiful”
“Have me,” I say
“Take this self I hate away
And throw it into the fire”

“A human is not a plate” he says
“A person is not a pot.
See this foot
This arm
Lop-sided am I
And lame
But after my handiwork
Even Athena lusts”
He picks me up
Sets me on a donkey
“It was done for me, once
When I was trash
And longed to burn
I could not choose life, then
So it was chosen for me.
Our eyes curse us
Seeing imperfections others can’t
Hear me:
You are your handiwork
And you are beautiful.”

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