Time Marches On

Woman-looking-in-mirror

 

 Just last year, I was thin and toned . . .

wrinkle-free . . . bright-eyed and perky;

this year, though, I stepped across the line

into blurry eyes and the skin-tone of a turkey.

 

It seems no amount of exercise,

wrinkle cream, or dieting makes a dent.

My body is revolting and I’ve quickly recognized

there’s not a thing I can do about it.

 

Old is old and wrinkled’s wrinkled . . .

and slapping some paint on an old, warped barn

accentuates the holes where the knots used to be . . .

it is painted, but it’s still an old, warped barn.

 

I never thought it would go this far;

I never thought I’d ever see the day

when the blondes would be eradicated

by multitudes of coarse, silver gray.

 

Time marches on; there’s no stopping it;

on the outside I’m a rose quickly fading,

yes, the shell of this woman is deteriorating,

but the spirit within her is not aging

 

and I find that knowledge invigorating

that trapped within this body of flesh

is an ageless, eternal spirit

that will someday move on to the best.

 

Trendy hair styles, proper make up,

pluck those eyebrows, work out, shape up . . .

weekly manicures, clothing that flatters,

diminish those wrinkles, because how you look matters . . .

oh yes, how you look matters . . .

don’t you know how you look matters . . .

to the world?

But it matters not to the King.

 

He says, “What are you doing, O devastated ones?

Why dress yourself in scarlet and jewels of gold?

Why shade your eyes with paint and adorn yourself in vain?

You are perfect in beauty when I in you shine forth.

 

You were created in My image and when I look on you, My child,

a lovely reflection of Myself is what I see –

a beautiful child, clothed in the righteousness of My Son.

What I see in you is a mirror image of only Me.

 

So do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world,

but heed the words I that I am speaking now to you.

My estimation of beauty – not the world’s – is what you need.

See yourself and look at others the way I do.

 

The wrinkles are only a reminder,

someday soon 

I’ll be face-to-face with you.

 

— Cheri Henderson

www.cherihenderson.wordpress.com

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