What’s so ugly about that?

I want to be straightforward. Most of the time the poetry I write misses the point of what I mean. I’m working on it. I’m an over-thinker and so I over-complicate. So let me jump to the meaning of this poem (at least of one small segment [at least of one line at least]).
We have this God, this Alpha and Omega God, who is also everything in between. 
Everything in Between. Everything. 
And we have this notion that everything ugly is going to be made beautiful. Like that duckling. Or our scarred bodies. Or ash; one day it combusts and beauty is born.
But what about Jesus? Disfigured by the cross, he returns home to heaven, and then when he revisits this world he is still marked by the same tragedy. The same ugly body…
Or maybe the ugly body is the beautiful body and we just don’t understand because we have spent our lives covering up wounds with band aids; or fig leaves.
Maybe we haven’t stared at ash long enough to realize that the beauty is not just in waiting for them to Phoenix, but that they are beautiful just as they are.

The unperformed handstand 

The unlit stage on which you are now
And not yet
The gum in your teeth
Chewing on your gums
Now and cavity 
The fat self eating nothing
The inner rib showing
The ego altering 
The soon to be
Never to be
Not to be
The hideous scar
The fading memory
The New skin on Old
The malformed cigarette
Burning down into the lip
The untransformed ash is



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