Friday, November 7, 2014

portrait of the girl /// body image, the slayer

She looks at me and says things like, "Do you really mean that?" And I wonder why she should have to ask. I ask myself why a woman with eyes that haunt, that wear an expression so genuinely mournful, yet never somber, so very penetrating, yet always pure, would wonder about beauty, not only in general, but even her own. She is a creature that sees so much, that searches for this type of purity in other people, yet has trouble glimpsing the blatant beauty in herself.

And this culture to which we are bound loves rib cages, but never what is contained inside them. Let us distract ourselves with talk of bodies, for if there we are occupied, we shall never search further and examine our souls.

She is golden fields and her grandmother's grief, a song personified.
Give me a bucket for the words "body image."

"You hem me in -- behind and before; You have laid Your hand upon me." ~ Psalm 139:5

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Go with grace.