BODY IMAGE Poem: Soil of Sorrow, by Yvette Rejuso

It took one image to loath her
Horrible, I thought
My mother knew
So, she told me a story

She spoke of flowers
One could discern,
How flowers have unconventional beauty,
How its incommensurate petals bestow life,
How one bows to be measured in avoirdupois,
How one watches a pair of sunbursts

One day,
The atmosphere ripened,
Heat thickened the garden
Now, each resplendent wished to bow down
Feasting upon the Lincoln green grass
Too late, perianth rapidly cascaded
One lasted, head tilted down, she remained strong

My mother, she knew
And I knew the silence of her breath
I took three steps away from the mirror
I could feel every flesh I have, the hefty desire to cut it
I was not an untamed flower nor tamed
I was just by the street, awfully growing and growing,
No one wanted to rest their eyes at

Seven years, people keep passing through
The flower could not stop growing
No one sat down and rested
A “revolting sight” was what she was told
A horrible cataclysm brewed inside her
And her own hands clung unto her
She was no longer looking for nourishment

Lost the key where she usually hides
So, she cried and compromised
Her puerile jokes once true, now broken
And no one caught the subtle truth
Alone,
She bowed behind them
As I withered too, unnoticed,
And the ambience changed