Poems, Personals, and Commentary

Posts tagged ‘identity’

Identity

We all have gifts and talents that are uniquely ours.

——

So glad I’m not you
And you are not me
If such were the case
It would be misery

Trapped in a body
Signals are crossed
Feeling psychotic
Feeling damaged and lost

Trying to be
What I’m certainly not
Playing a role —
I’ve been put on the spot

Trying to be
What you think will gain love
Pretending and posing
Just to get human love

We must have an anchor
That shows us the truth
God’s word and His teaching
Is no trivial pursuit

I’m back to my own place
I am who I am
When we let go and let God
Life is gloriously grand

Perspectives

So painful when we misunderstand each other.
Different ways of seeing things;
We grew up in different worlds.

I’d like to listen to your pain,
But it hurts too much
To add another pain to my own.

Education helps –
Exposed to different perspectives.
But can I keep my identity
And still cherish yours?

——————-

I used to think that
When we disagreed,
You didn’t love me.

——————–

Are you a liberal or conservative?
I’ve decided that I’m a libative.

——————

There is One who knows all our pain —
Yours and mine –
But do we know His?

Broken Sidewalks

[Memories from my teenage years…
I hope people can relate it to their own unique identity struggles,
whatever your ethnicity, religion, or other unique characteristics.
We all have them, and they are all valuable.]

Playing hooky from Biology class,
I walked on broken sidewalks,
The weeds poking through the cracks.

I passed white picket fences
And Victorian houses.
The old immigrants lived there —
the Portuguese, the Italians.
I felt the oldness of it all,
The vines growing on creaky fences.

The sidewalks broken —
like my old life.

I confessed to the Biology teacher.
He forgave me; he was a kindly man.

It was a town of immigrants —
But not my own people —  then.
(Didn’t realize I was an American!)
I spoke Hungarian —
not Italian, nor Portuguese, nor Gaelic —
No other Hungarians in town.

Lord, where do I belong?

You are my Rock and my Anchor;
You knew me all the time.

I’ll forever be an exile on earth —
But I’ll come home to You.

I Looked Around

I looked around, what did I see?
A person looking back at me.
Was he the I, or I the it,
Was he to me my destiny?

And who am I and who are you?
Our destinies together through
Has God ordained; it must be true.

A myst’ry lies beneath it all,
I do not understand the call.
But still with trust I must go forth;
My circumstances must not force.

Accept, accept, and let it be.

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