As young girls we are told

Our beauty is visible

Even if our own captious eyes are blind to it

We are likened to butterflies

Creatures whose decorative wings, 

enchant the viewer with every flutter

It’s believed that the butterfly can seldom turn her head to see her wings

So she flys, never laying eyes on her most prepossessing feature

Never knowing her true beauty

The world being amazed by her nonetheless

In time you learn

That the butterfly can actually see her wings

Her compound eyes can turn to see her features

But even then,

Will the butterfly be satisfied by what she sees?

She could always see the beauty of her companions

Will the view of her own wings lead to anything but comparison?

We cannot know

We cannot know if butterflies trust in their own radiance 

We cannot know if butterflies are any more confident than us,

The people who have always observed the beauty of the butterfly

But deter ourselves from seeing magnificence when we look in the mirror

So, next time you see her

Tell her she’s stunning

Tell her she’s radiant

Tell her she’s important

Her eyes might be capable of viewing herself

But that doesn’t means she has let herself see it