I am surrounded by fools and morons,
for they speak of the need to be beautiful
as if it is a lifeline that cannot be cut.
But for me, it has been severed
since before I understood such beauty.
And yes, I too worship beauty,
but as the graceful swan
hiding inside my ugly ducking exterior
cries in vain for someone to see
within the walls of its confinement,
I would desire to see as well,
the beauty of someone’s soul
who is the mate to mine.
Is he here? In this world?
Or have I missed him entirely,
lost among the reeds of my prison?
The pond where I am stuck,
because no mate has appeared,
knowing the swan that lies beneath
and thus fly off with me by his side.
© Johanna Fugitt 2017