Wrinkles

Wrinkles are the medals of the soul,
Though we try to sweep them under the rug.
They should be put on a pedestal,
Not cowered behind a shrug.

We are taught to despise them,
We constantly try to erase them,
We are always trying to hide them,
Why don’t we just embrace them?

They should be worn with gratitude,
And fully celebrated,
Instead of being an embarrassment,
And absolutely hated.

Wrinkles tell a story,
About the warrior deep inside,
The one the world doesn’t know about,
Cause she’s hidden behind her pride.

The one that’s endured hardships,
And cried through sleepless nights,
The one whose heart has been gored,
In some of life’s bullfights.

The one who has fought her demons,
Time and time again,
The one who kept from drowning,
When life was sink or swim.

The one who kept trudging,
Despite having every reason to quit,
One foot in front of the other,
Because she was made of grit.

“How are you?”
“Oh, I’m fine!
I’m doing great,
All the time.”

It’s okay to cut the crap,
It’s okay to be real,
Sharing your sorrow,
Can help you heal.

Everyone has these battles,
These experiences with war,
These experiences feeling hollow,
And broken to the core.

Yet we believe the silly lie,
That we’re alone in our struggle,
So we put on our makeup,
And keep our despair in a muzzle.

While it’s okay to be private,
And not to share all your pain,
We should stop discounting wrinkles,
And viewing them with disdain.

Own your truth,
Own your story,
Own your wrinkles,
Own your glory,

Own your ups,
Own your downs,
Own your smiles,
Own your frowns.

Wrinkles are dignified.
They are perseverance.
They are fortitude.
They are deliverance.

Sweet girl, you made it!
Those are a sign of victory.
Pick up a new perspective,
“I appreciate you; you made me!”

© Regina Mast 2016

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