Paradox

See the confusion ever present in her eyes
Beauty is an illusion she has learned to despise
Yet her fascination with it keeps her entwined
In a cycle of love and hate held captive in her mind.

She is attracted though she does not want to be
To the outward appearance, the world's idolatry
So she must hate herself for loving such a thing
As specious beauty from which no happiness may spring.

She knows better than to fall in love with a pretty face
For looks do not merit love when backed by empty space
And since beauty has eluded her, she knows she can't relate
For her face does not possess that which she searches for in a mate.

And even if she could break free from this ugly shell
And sit on a throne of beauty above this living hell
And be with men who cast upon her their alluring spell
She knows she'd find that over time the enchantment would dispel.

So the confusion ever present in her eyes
Marks a desperation that she cannot disguise
A longing for the strength to see past beauty's lies
To a deeper, quintessential truth that is rarely realized.

*published, Broadside Journal, 1999.