A POEM BY R. STEPHEN
Beauty beheld by the yearner, they say
What of the radiance from the glow of one’s own eyes
adolescent awe of such allure
effortless as a breath
an enchantress to gift all mankind skin to psyche
maternal act of splendour pure
the mother’s sacrifice slight but unfading
a once effortless glow fades with burden
suffering, labour, sacrifice devouring what was once quietly valued
mind, body, essence
fragments grow beyond a mortal form which was
from the trial, divinity surfaces
what words or actions lift this scarred mortal
when it is her own voice which ought to echo my words
Beauty was she
Beauty is she
She is beauty
About This Poem
How Do I Tell Her?: A Quiet Devotion to the Woman I Love
I wrote How Do I Tell Her? during a time when my wife was struggling to feel like herself after we had our two children. I wanted to tell her she was beautiful, but I also knew that how she felt about herself mattered more than anything I could say. The poem became my way of holding both truths at once: her pain, and my awe.
The poem moves through the stages of admiration, sacrifice and transformation. It begins with the kind of youthful wonder I felt when we first met, that effortless breath of attraction. Then it shifts into the reality of motherhood, the quiet cost that never fully fades. I wanted to honour that cost without romanticising it, to acknowledge the suffering and the labour that can erode the glow she once valued.
But the heart of the poem is the transformation. Mind, body, essence expanding beyond the mortal form she thinks she has lost. From the trial, divinity surfaces. That is the truth I wanted her to hear, even if she could not feel it yet.
The final lines are simple because they needed to be. Beauty was she. Beauty is she. She is beauty. Not a reassurance, not a correction, but a reminder that her own voice must echo the words I offer.
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