I do not understand,
but I am not you,
any of you.
That is perhaps all I can understand,
but I hope, somewhere, somehow,
though I cannot understand
I can help.
In the mirror you look and see
– someone, yourself, a stranger –
who is not beautiful (enough),
who is not pretty (enough),
who is not smart (enough),
who is not skinny (enough).
I look and see you,
a rose, beautiful even unseeing,
a twinkling star unknowing,
a breath of air unexpected,
a delight undreamt of.
I cannot see you as you do
and I cannot understand,
but know that I see you as I do
and you are amazing
– the words I have do you no justice,
beautiful one, image of God, beloved one
not even the first hint of justice –
but you are more than any mirror says.
Imagine your highest point,
– that moment of untamed joy –
you still see yourself as too little.
You are beautiful, lovely, delightful
and though I cannot understand
I hope that you can.