I Dry My Own Tears

Jul 28, 2025

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, they say.

Some see a dandelion, I guess they see a weed

when they look at me.

Before they blow me off like dust.

I was not born to adorn mantlepieces anyway,

or line hardwood floors.

Their gloved fingers are not porous enough to handle

flesh like mine.

They see a weed, I see strength.

A strong woman who has overcome many hurdles

to be where she is today.

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, they say; view me

as weak because, in my vulnerability, I hold no shame.

Resilience brought me this far, and faith carries all my fears.

To no god do I pray, and I can dry my tears.