Stitching the Wounds Through Poetry

A lost child, walking on the soil of a sinful earth,

Misguided and abused; such a loss of innocence.

Yet I still do not know why,

God had allowed my eyes to contract and grace that beautiful sunrise,

All hope seemed to be buried with all my other attempts to live,

My own life that is.

A puppet with the brains to pass a standardized test,

school seemed to be my only escape.

It is also the only thing others cared to see,

Any other talents and capabilities they believed were nonexistent.

The white black girl is what they called me.

Because in the black society it is impossible for one to be both,

Educated and accepted.

I guess unless you live that stereotype,

You can never fully be apart of that life.
I didn't know the "struggle" apparently.

One pair of shoes was all I had a year until the age of 16,

I was very anal about keeping them clean.

Family full of high school drop outs,

Twenty years later and many still without a GED.

Teenage pregnancy followed the women, while jail due to drugs followed the men.

Far from wealthy; houses can be deceiving,
Working class has never left our back door.
Corner stores, link, Aldi, and the South Side Mission was nothing new for the family.
But good physical shelter does come with sacrifices,
intermediate relationships still are in the process of recovery.
But they called me privileged?

Raised to work hard for what I want; "life is not free",
while being slapped in the face from those same people for doing just that.
Pressured to take a role at a young age to make up for others mistakes,
But where was that shoulder when darkness stared me in the face?
But I don't know struggle right?

Blaming myself for how others treated me was my belief,

because that was the message given to me.
Locking myself in my own little box,
Disappointment from unwanted expectations followed me every waking moment.
The only positive thing I had was education and one best friend.

Four years and three months ago,
a glimpse of freedom came knocking at my door.
A man who I have come to love and appreciate gave me something to believe in;
the depth of darkness slowly started to disappear.

He brought me to the body of Christ,
 and doubt was nowhere in sight.
Fellowship with another friend helped bring me to the Word;
darkness was clearing.

My heart; however was still heavy and confused,
and those same who helped me were making me feel the same way they made me feel for over 18 years.
They were judging me based on what they thought they saw on the outside,
assuming and not asking the right questions.
Arguing to defend yourself while going back and forth with friendships seemed to be a never ending cycle,
Wounds are once again open.

Then it was said, again, that it was my fault for the way I felt and how they treated me,
I should have acted differently and been more outgoing they said.
But wait, how can I be myself when you want me to be someone I am not?
Is it really my fault for others misjudgment?

NO! If they do not take the time out to ask questions and get to know me beyond what they see,
then it is not I who is at fault.
Too many think they can read you and know your whole story,
but have no explanation for their own.
They were right in a sense that I allowed myself to feel the way I do,
And being too caring of others and what they thought will cause a mental catastrophe.

I will not be an open book though the truth is accessible to all,
Just because I do not agree or involve myself in the same things,
Does not validate one's ignorant assumptions and accusations.
Only God and I know my whole story,
And We are still working on it.

People are put in our lives for a reason,
And they all have an expiration date; some sooner than others.
Credit is only given to the man above,
Because it was He that used those around me to bring me closer to Him.
So for those who keep seeking credit where their effort was nonexistent,
keep your pride; don't worry your purpose was greatly appreciated.

Anyone can give advice, but the ultimate choice was my own,
And I must say, my heart and mind has turned over anew.
The feeling of spiritual rebirth is piercing every inch of my skin,
I hunger for what the Lord has in store for me.

I may not understand my purpose of why He has me here on this earth,
but if He could bring me out of the depths of my depression,
continuously forgive me for all I have done against Him,
why then would I question Him?

Stitching those wounds again, but with a different type of bandage,
no scars left behind.
Allowing them to stay open only gives room for infection to settle in;
what a waste of life that would be.

Oh what great things my God has shown me.
Life is like a death sentence without the spirit of the Lord,

We are all born into this world dead, in the midst of sin.

I too was one of those people,

Breathing yet too ignorant to realize how blessed I was to even be here.

No more will I assimilate into this chaotic world,
Afraid to acknowledge the grace and mercy of our Lord and Savior.
I choose to be alive!
No one testimony is greater than the next and not everyone can overcome the same trials;
Embrace one's individuality.

When we accept and love God, all things that seemed impossible,
are now at the touch of our fingers.