she looks down
falls to her bedroom floor
grips her thighs with her fingernails
looks into her mirror another time
wondering why
why
why
is there purple worms on my skin
when did these cross my path
when did these receive consent to make home on the insides of my legs
she calls for her mom
asking her why her legs have grown into something
she would rather hide beneath a newfound hate
and her mother tells her
“all the pretty girls have them
they are the symbol of your life
twelve years of crawling
walking
running
and growing
growing and becoming
do not look at them and fear
do not look at them at let yourself believe that they are ugly
do not stop looking at them
because those are the beautiful roots of twelve years
twelve years of a life that is changing the whole world
let them be
because nothing is more beautiful
nothing is more moving
nothing is more powerful
than a girl loving herself
and all that she has become.
those scars are the roots growing on the sides of a building
hugging the pillars and walls that stand monumental
taking on the definition of the strength that only the most beautiful souls can speak
growing onto something that wants to be looked at.
the beauty of the complex lines on your legs
is the same beauty as those roots;
pulchritude
because they didn’t know that they weren’t supposed to grow there
but they did
because they saw something more beautiful than anything else
and they ached to be as beautiful as the building
as your body
and so they grew there
not knowing that they were ugly
but hoping that if they grew onto something beautiful
they would become beautiful too.”
ilc