"Why Am I Here?"

"Someone has to ponder that Question."

Look in the mirror.
What do you see?
I see a girl smiling back at me.
With sad, tired eyes
that screams of insecurity.
I see who I am
And in the reflection, I realized
I do not like what I see.
I see a wretched being
with a scarred past,
full of lies and lust,
and grief and anger,
and sorrow and distrust,
and wounds
that never healed fast.
I see a liar,
a cheat,
a master manipulator,
people-pleaser,
pretender,
a great actor,
putting up
a sweet,
gentle,
soft-spoken,
prim and proper front,
but living the life
of a desperate
******* by the well.
A scarlet letter in disguise.
Present day Magdalene.
Tamar,
ravaged,
broken,
defiled,
bruised,
bleeding,
de­ad.
Worthless.
Wearing a mask of a strong warrior,
everything alright.
Silver tongue,
knows all the right words
and how to say them.
But behind the mask
is a broken,
scared little girl
too conscious of her glaring,
blazing,
flashing neon light,
flaws:
ugly,
fat,
unworthy,
undeserving,
disgraced.
I see an ungrateful woman
given grace,
only to rebel
again
for the hundredth time.
I hung my head and closed my eyes,
shame creeping in my heart.
I heard my reflection call my name.
"Look up.
Look at me once again."
And I did.
Because there is something
about the voice,
something so gentle,
so compelling,
so attractive,
and warm
that I couldn't resist
but follow it.
A tender voice full of love.
A voice that made me feel
known,
fully known,
and still accepted.
A voice so full of love
it quieted the shame.
I looked up
and saw myself.
Basked in a glorious light
that isn't mine.
Shining so bright.
Radiating beauty
that didn't come from me.
I saw myself
clothed in white,
pure and holy,
and pleasing to the eyes.
No longer a wraith.
I looked
and saw myself
through my Savior's eyes:
a princess,
a royal priesthood,
a bride,
a daughter,
a warrior.
Chosen and cleansed.
I looked and saw myself
but the face on the mirror
was my Savior's face.
It was His beauty I radiated,
His light I shone.
He exposed my flaws
and revealed that in Him
I am a new creation.
I am a new creation.
Even if I don't see it sometimes,
I am a new creation.

Here they fall,
    As words they lay;
Like rain on leaves,
    Then drift away—

New ones come
     Lonesome and weak;
Shrugged off by the old,
     Obese and bleak—

Stillness, then shock
     Illuminates my mind;
A scape of rusted reveries,
     Desolate and unkind—

Hallucinations by and by,
      And I chase their light;
Dreams and adorations,
     Faint whispers in the night—

Maybe I have to learn
From the falling leaf
And its fading color
As it laughs along
The blowing wind
Despite the fact that
It soon will dies
Just so the tree
Is able to grow
Even greener

Excuse me for my hurt,
I know you mean well,
And you want to inspire,
And uplift me,
But language is a fickle art.
One that can make the difference,
Composing tone and the words themselves.
And there is no greater insecurity
Than the one called Me.

Since the very beginning,
I have been openly listening,
Engaging in thoughtful discussion -
The subject of You, the percussion.
I immediately spotted possible repercussions.
I wanted, and I still do,
To know your essence,
But healthy exchanges
Involve equality,
And I don't want to be left hanging,
Feeling like I'm lesser.

I crave knowing the rest of your essence,
But have you no interest
In knowing the same?
Are our minds connected
Of the same fibers
Or are we what we weave,
Being different in how we perceive,
A lifetime of individual strings?

The only Person I should keep in my life,
Making me feel inferior and uninteresting,
Is Me -
And I shall escape that fate,
With unconditional love, and positivity.

I am deeply interested,
In knowing MySelf, loving MySelf,
And to You, who has shown limited interest
In simply knowing me,
You, I choose as a direction of my Purity,
You, unaltered and true,
You, and Me, Alone -

It all, once again,
Always begins with You.