Mess

I’ve never liked how I look.

you know, not like other girls.

I recall being 12 and looking in the mirror

at girl I hated.

Words swam through my mind

“boyish”

“ugly”

different

They bit at me, leaving infections

that, like puss, would contaminate my psyche.

I never thought I’d be beautiful.

I never thought I'd be loved.

 

I believed that my beauty had taken too long to set,

so I was thrown out.

I was a creation who God couldn’t get right,

or so I thought.

But my God doesn’t make mistakes.

Unlike humans, Yahweh doesn’t need time to "get it right."

His creation is unique.

Magnificent.

Flawless.

Out of my mess

came an incredible thing.

 

I am a women,

a lady who sees that I am

the most beautiful me.

I am a mentor to young girls

who, at preteen years,

have already been told

they’re not good enough.

I am a mess used by God

to disciple scared girls

to show them that they

are

beautiful.

To reveal to them a man

who pursues them.

To open their eyes,

to Christ's Love.

This poem is about: 
Me
Our world

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