a hurricane of yuck

Early in my transition I decided to write a poem about my self-love. Since I felt it was unrequited but burgeoning, I chose to write it as a Petrarchan sonnet. It was a fun exercise that inspired me to take the work of transition seriously and build myself up. Since I am once again doing the work to reclaim my self-worth and reawaken my sense of self-love, I chose to repeat the poetic process.

This time I refused to allow my self-love to be unrequited. No Petrarchan sonnet this time. I'm going full-on, sappy, sweet, lovey-dovey Shakespearean sonnet in spite of my distaste for the form. If the shoe fits... Fourteen lines, typical rhyming scheme, iambic pentameter, and the volta at line 9 that turns the gloomy toward the light. My imperfections are just another side of who I am. There are bright and beautiful sides. It's time they caught the light, too. So, without further ado...

Be Proud

As lines of silver streak my brunette locks
And stretch marks ripple round my heavy waist,
I struggle finding ample fitting frocks
And tears with mem'ries oft roll down with haste.

Emotions once before kept stuffed inside
Crouch ready to lash out with just a flinch.
My spirit's only happy just to hide
and legs too weary under pound and inch.

Yet these are just mere facets of my self,
imperfect yes but not without their shine!
So turn the gem that's me upon the shelf
And deeper beauty lusters clear and fine.

Oh Self, I did the best I could today.
Be proud, and know I love you anyway.