It’s not everyday I see the self portrait
of my soul
with its uneven contours and discoloured
And see here- the jagged stitching across the chest?
That’s scarring from when my heart was ripped out…. then repaired
trampled …… then repaired
and once, simply exploded… but again, repaired
The mind behind my lopsided face is no longer a thousand shards of screaming glass…. but an oasis of calm and poetry

I trace this outline of the inside of me
(that can’t wear makeup – to hide its reality
-or a smile to mask its struggles)
…. and beam with pride
There’s no sign of excellence
-neither is there worldly success
but an abundance of hope – wrapped in resilience
and a celebration of life in a soul
perfectly flawed

© Vivian Zems

Real Toads-Artistic Interpretations – Over Loved and Stuffed with Toril Fisher- image owner