An Intrinsic Exquisite

bless these eyes

when they try to make me wrong
I try to remember the damage they have done
and the healing I have perpetrated
and sometimes this makes me feel less like a speck and more like a woman who has a right to her dignity

what are accomplishments?
besides, of course, the fetish of Protestants...
stripped of the outward and visible grace thing that conspicuous consumption carries, what is left for the definition of accomplishment?

am I accomplished? how can I know?

do I ask myself, "Self, what have you as I, accomplished?"
because that seems awfully easy
thousands of events and eventualities could be blithely elicited from this
and a pile as high as spun straw in a fairy tale, would turn to gold before my eyes

ah, my eyes
bless these eyes for all they have seen and all they have forgotten and for the courage to arise open each day
blessings and gratitude

time to take the dog for a walk