Am I terrified or uninspired?
Am I dreading the process or just tired?
I want there to be meaning
to every pen stroke
Do I want to be impressive, profound, prolific
or do I just want someone to see me
That happened before, a few times
and it always felt like dreaming
yet it was always a fleeting moment in time
God, are you still there?
Do you see me the way those people did
poring over my work and investing in it
telling me what you really think
saying so much more than a passing “that’s good Dill” and then leaving me behind?
Is it good enough for you to like it
Even if it’s technically bad?
Does it get your attention?
Or do I already have your attention?
I can’t use my creativity to make you love me
I never had to
It’s such a thrill for someone to take notice of me when they didn’t have to
But you never had to, never have to
But every moment you notice me, don’t you?
Dad?
Do you notice me?
Even when my art is bad?
Do you believe I can do better? That taking the time to improve is worth it?
But my improvement doesn’t make you love me more either, nor does my lack of it make you love me less
But I don’t want to be disobedient
I don’t want to keep burying my pens in the sand
I want to love my art the way you love me, unconditionally
I don’t right now, right now I hate it
I hate my limits
I hate the lost time
I hate feeling like an invisible artist
yet I’m terrified to let myself be seen again
But it’s too late for that now
You already see me, don’t you? Warts and all.
And beyond what I could possibly understand
somehow, you like what you see
You love it
You love me
Even when I’m burying myself in darkness
Even when I’m dead inside and hiding from everyone
I can’t hide from you
I never could no matter how I’ve tried
All those wonderful times when people did see me, they saw my talent and my creativity and thought it was worth their notice when I never asked for it
That euphoria of being seen and loved
What if I could live there instead of in the shadows?
What if I could be grateful for what I have?
What if I could see the truth that I’m always seen and known?
What if you’re always celebrating me even when I feel worth the opposite?
Maybe you’re in my heart
always telling me how smart, talented, creative I am
Not lying about my weaknesses but celebrating my strengths
Can I hear it? The sounds of divine celebration?
Can I listen for what’s real instead of tuning that out in favor of the fake?
May the words of my mouth
and the meditation of my heart
be acceptable in your sight
Oh Lord, My God.
Aug 27, 2023
Aug 27, 2023 at 5:53 PM UTC
Am I terrified or uninspired?
Am I dreading the process or just tired?
I want there to be meaning
to every pen stroke
Do I want to be impressive, profound, prolific
or do I just want someone to see me
That happened before, a few times
and it always felt like dreaming
yet it was always a fleeting moment in time
God, are you still there?
Do you see me the way those people did
poring over my work and investing in it
telling me what you really think
saying so much more than a passing “that’s good Dill” and then leaving me behind?
Is it good enough for you to like it
Even if it’s technically bad?
Does it get your attention?
Or do I already have your attention?
I can’t use my creativity to make you love me
I never had to
It’s such a thrill for someone to take notice of me when they didn’t have to
But you never had to, never have to
But every moment you notice me, don’t you?
Dad?
Do you notice me?
Even when my art is bad?
Do you believe I can do better? That taking the time to improve is worth it?
But my improvement doesn’t make you love me more either, nor does my lack of it make you love me less
But I don’t want to be disobedient
I don’t want to keep burying my pens in the sand
I want to love my art the way you love me, unconditionally
I don’t right now, right now I hate it
I hate my limits
I hate the lost time
I hate feeling like an invisible artist
yet I’m terrified to let myself be seen again
But it’s too late for that now
You already see me, don’t you? Warts and all.
And beyond what I could possibly understand
somehow, you like what you see
You love it
You love me
Even when I’m burying myself in darkness
Even when I’m dead inside and hiding from everyone
I can’t hide from you
I never could no matter how I’ve tried
All those wonderful times when people did see me, they saw my talent and my creativity and thought it was worth their notice when I never asked for it
That euphoria of being seen and loved
What if I could live there instead of in the shadows?
What if I could be grateful for what I have?
What if I could see the truth that I’m always seen and known?
What if you’re always celebrating me even when I feel worth the opposite?
Maybe you’re in my heart
always telling me how smart, talented, creative I am
Not lying about my weaknesses but celebrating my strengths
Can I hear it? The sounds of divine celebration?
Can I listen for what’s real instead of tuning that out in favor of the fake?
May the words of my mouth
and the meditation of my heart
be acceptable in your sight
Oh Lord, My God.
On how God sees us in our creativity. Or our seeming lack of it.
