People

Floods of unknown faces

Press in

My lungs, untamed, collapse

But I recapture my hope

A bird torpid, with poison in its system

The poison of despair

That stern teacher.

Little bird, where would you go?

To the deceived

With fire hidden

In that heart

Now masked by fear, prejudice

Or maybe poison of its own?

Or to the Devil, their boss

With a hope of its own

Hidden fast in decaying stone

Stone words, stone walls

Stone knives

Stripping identity

Until I am no longer alive--

Just another face.

Little songbird

Would you desert

The heart fast melting

into stone?

The advertiser says

That those dots on skin

Are ink blots staining

A sheet so thin.

Fingers reach up

With a touch like gossamer-

In their eyes, a question:

Am I as beautiful as her?

If only they could hear

The tender whispers of their Creator:

I made you perfect, I love you

Just as you are.

Those are not blemishes-

They are constellations

Representing a story, God’s story

Not the world’s expectations.

The trivial ribbons that tie me,

like chains, to being blithe

are gone, floating away in the wind

with a pang of regret and loss of being lithe.

I sigh and start to run without looking;

I forget that I'm free to the world.

But my parents say "Shh. Stop running;

instead trust in God and His Word."

I heed their advice and take God's hand,

comforting, soft, and warm.

As He leads me to a peaceful land,

I know that He would never do me harm.

Unexpectedly I'm thrown into the fire

of despair and grief and desolation.

But like a Phoenix I'm built in situations dire;

out of ashes rises hope, calm, and alleviation.

As I step out bolder and stronger,

I realize with exuberance

being free of now frivolous ribbon

gives me knowledge and God's gift of endurance.