Ogress Made Ogre

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Dear Bestie,                                                                                                                        

I have come to realize,

A woman at fifty is a being, awful.

She looks like she is manning up for something dreadful.

Her voice solidifies into a thick hollow, ever mournful.

Her chin doubles up into a choking curve, mouthful.

Her nose flares in disgust over her past memories, regretful.

Her moustache gradually forms, beckoning a long daring beard resentful,  

Her eyes fall into a chasm so that they float feebly in disapproval, hurtful.

Her forehead dissects a line of worry, a grey shred of hair receding, frightful.

Her backside insists on a rebellious uneven overflowing contemptuous pile, tactful.

Her feet are sprout up roots, green and bulging, decrying tight shoes she’s fond of, painful.

 

Bestie,

This is the woman we don’t want to be.

This is the woman you don’t want to have for your boss.

And most especially, this is the woman, the ogress metamorphized ogre,

Whom misfortune sends our way when we are desperate.

This woman, is a creature, sad and lonely,

Manning up for her death, a slow painful death

Because this woman, hates herself.

The ogress devours others and finally, devours itself.

 

Bestie,

When you pray,

Pray for the ogress too, to find whatever makes her tick.

And when you pray,

Pray for the miracle of self-love.




Sr. Esther Jeruto Koros OSF 



Comments

  1. Anonymous20 July 2023 at 19:16

    Good piece

    ReplyDelete
  2. Anonymous20 July 2023 at 19:19

    You are on another level my sister.You are the likes of Late Maya

    ReplyDelete
  3. Anonymous20 July 2023 at 19:43

    Wow. This is excellently done. I love the ease with which it addresses such a powerful matter! Very well done Sister!

    ReplyDelete

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