The other day I was going somewhere, and trying to work out what would make that particular outfit "look right", I tried on some old jewellery I had at the back of the cupboard. i was shocked at how "yuck" it was -- some years ago I used to wear those things regularly! Part of it is fashion of course, but part of it goes much deeper ..
I am no more the girl who wore these things,
This coloured plastic: dated, dull and plain,
The sum of all I ever dared aspire.
I dreamed small dreams, that me of way back when,
Scared of the risk of pride I huddled close
Hiding both hope and fear behind a mask
Of littleness, and drab and careful thoughts.
I am no more that girl, the one afraid
To be the thing she is, the thing I am,
To be myself in all my brokenness,
To learn to sing my hidden, secret song,
To let both tears and laughter freely flow.
Yes, she is me but not me. I still wear
Her wounds, carry her fears, name the old pain,
Taste the old shame that kept her caged so long.
But not me. By some precious, precious grace,
I have escaped, have found my flimsy wings
And dare await the Spirit wind to lift.
I stand entire within that timeless place
Which I have not yet reached.
I can aspire
Towards that beauty which shall one day be
And even now I trust that grace for me.