I wrote this last year
A freewrite which was a response to an exchange I had with God.
Clothes, check
face, check
full stove, baked goods
shoe game, hair tamed
prays like Hannah and
submits like Ruth and
honors like Esther and
serves like Dorcas and
available like Mary,
yes marry...who me?
but
what’s your name? you forget you say?
back to the list
Degree? yes, check
knows how to budget and balance a check
book, reads books
wait, heart check?
skip
I said heart check?
skip
sounds like an out of sync palpitation but
if your talent is loud enough, most won’t hear it
Pretty face on a good day
does it make up for her weight,
wait
pretty words can cover that up
cover girl, smile big
not big on make up
but made up of 90%
mascara
she says masks scare her
scarred, is she
Is she beautiful?
What’s her name? you forgot you say?
A Penny for your thoughts, honey
just enough to compensate
So God says to her
Aren’t you tired of trying to defend your definition of value to those clearly illiterate in beauty
I can’t leave you where you are
Aren’t you tired of trying to fit a triangle into a square?
putting boys on thrones when some are spiritual babes still needing their high chairs
You haven’t had a child yet so why are you so content wiping milk off lips?
Potential alone aint never turned a crush into a covenant
hand on the bible, but eyes still seeking coke bottles
a brother don’t mean to hurt or bother nobody but while his body is in church he still notices the bodies,
but doesn’t everybody, I mean who doesn’t want a bride with a body
anybody, but not just anybody
more stuck on the shape than her submission to the Head of the body
If you don’t have no body
you are nobody
basic temple geometry
but please, sister anointed lips, could you pray for me?
God spoke to her today and said
I see your knuckles grasped around what you think is your self worth, girl
looks gold on the outside but beneath your grip I see the brass
So let’s trade
Can I have it?
All is not almost
All is not most
Will you trust me?
you always say that I make beautiful things out of the dust
your heart is tear soaked mud
may I have it, please?
Clay
You fear not the fire
only that once the flames finish, you still won’t be polished
You keep pieces of it because you wonder who would want the Penny
in a world where even dimes are not enough
so when you’ve presented what you think is your best self
good things gift wrapped, you discard the rest
because who would want a Penny when you handed them a hundred dollar bill
do you realize the grevity of telling me “keep the change”?
I am the change, I can’t withhold myself
I can’t let you stay the same
I am not a cashier
you are not a cash exchange
not a grocery list where your best attributes are divided up next to check boxes
this is not a barter for your best parts
I am not looking to buy you on sale
This blood was full price
even one single cent isn’t useless to me
one, single
sent
you are to be used just for me
I
am not the Adam who left you uncovered
nor his sons who emotionally do the same
I am the Christ whose crimson covered you
You ask to touch the hem of my garment
But let me sew the hem of your heart
I
am tailor, and artist, and
I can mold masterpieces out of a mite, too
Might you
Give me all of you?
I can’t leave you
where you
are, you
tired, yet
of trying to fit a triangle into a square?
I am maker of shapes, and I know where you fit
Not based on how your clothes fit
but custom made for a robe of righteousness
you are not a “she has everything, but”
you will not be worthy, when
you, you are everything I want
Now,
discard your checklist
Penny isn’t your name, Queen
~love, compassion, royalty~
