I pushed away
One dress after another…
None of them was ‘The One’
…I was looking for me.
If a dress were me
How would it look?
What threads would tell my story?
What moments would weave together as warp and weft?
And what colours and textures
Would reflect the age of my mind?
Which anecdotes would be printed?
How would it embrace my body?
I don’t like tight hugs any more.
I don’t want my breasts cupped
Or my buttocks grabbed
Or my form sculpted.
I no longer desire to be desired
I wish for silence and an ease of being
A place by your side
Loved, adored, admired, trusted.
I now like to maintain
A respectful distance
My relationships must stand the test of time
The truly beautiful is never a trend.
I find nothing up for grabs
Calibrated and cut
To the dimensions of my being
Except for this beautiful silk stole…
It’s light as air
I wrap it around me
And it engulfs me like an aura
In and through it
I catch a glimpse of my Self
How deep is my need
To be visible, to be freed, to be true.