Eloquent. Conscientous.
I was a model student.
I was a girl with a sleek
Ponytail, glasses poised
On the bridge of my nose.
Careful. Reserved. Moral.
Did I laugh because I felt
I had to? Was the enjoyment
Real, or did I convince myself
That life was full, when it was
An empty jar, flies buzzing
Over the perforated top?
Beaming. Intelligent. Joyful.
How did I manage to hide
All of my woes? Did no one
Truly suspect my grand act?
I thought I was truthful. I
Thought I knew myself.
Graceful. Observant. Kind.
I was self-conscious that
I smelled of salt—dried tears
On my clothes I didn’t want
People to find, not while I was
The bright light they had come
To expect. Was this wrong?

Doubtful. Pessimistic. Empty.
What words truly describe me?

Let it fall away—
The distractions and
The faulty imitations
Of our world—

Your love becomes
A field of peace,
Empty of all I have
Used to replace You.

It begins to rain.
Soft, red droplets,
Falling on my nose
And cleaning the 

Soot on my skin.

It is a flood of
Grace only making
The wildflowers
Bloom brighter, the
Sun burn deeper, and
My heart feel more
Real in my chest.

I breathe in, knowing
The clouds cannot
Hold Your love, nor
Stop Your  blood from
Covering our sin.

A hop down memory lane,
A world of darkness
Written in the cobblestones.
I relived it all on purpose,
Knowing it was where
I would find my inspiration.

. . .

I shifted the focus
From the brokeness
Of my heart
To the peace that lies
In the grace of my God.