Shameless

I notice the slices, then she smiles at me hesitantly, and I wonder,
is this lady a muse?
 
Because I find her shamelessness inspiring.  
 
She's shameless because she's chosen to show her scars,
on arms that look like an old woman's,
the cuts so numerous they might otherwise be wrinkles,
wrinkling right up to her shoulders.
Some are thick and raging white,
some pencil marks, brushed across her skin.
Her bracelets of pain.
 
And by choosing to wear them on her bare arms,
this lady makes me feel that there's no shame in feeling s**t.
That the world has room for diversity.
She grounds me.
She inspires a sense of admiration.
She encourages me to be more accepting of my body, when sometimes I want to hide it.
She makes it easier for me to continue to be myself.
To continue to be shameless, as she is.
She reassures me that there's a place for me, too.  
She shows me that grace can be a sleeveless top.
 
To be honest, this Summer's day has become a little brighter for seeing you. So thank you.