The True Moon

I am like the moon-

white as snow,

yet touched by shadows,

marked imperfect...real.

The moon has its scars,

its dark spots, its silent stories,

yet the whole world looks up in awe,

and calls it beautiful.

Then why...?

When a girl carries her own marks ,

her own truths upon her face ,

Is she not seen the same way?

Why is the moon loved by all ,

but she is not ?

She too is a blessing -

not just a face ,

but a life giver,

a heart that becomes

a mother, a daughter,

a sister, a friend ,

a wife.

She is a moon among us,

yet the world searches for perfection,

and ignores her light.

- Accal