My identity

Is it the errors I’ve made?

Or the trophies I’ve laid

Upon the shelves in my gaze

It’s all maze; who am I anyway?

Am I your approval of me?

Or the approval I seek?

If so, my future is bleak

Because people are fickle, to say the least

Could I be the things I possess?

Do they measure my potential or greatness?

What about my swag or prowess?

I’ll do my best, in futility

To put on masks, flaunting my possessions

Truth is my identity rests in my confession

That Jesus is risen, as Savior and Lord

I sigh in relief and reap the reward

Obediently looking to the Master to name

the creation whose image is the same

The reason His Son came

If only I knew

My own name-

It’s daughter, beloved,

I’d put down those facades

Then I’d realize I didn’t have to work so hard

To be accepted

I neglected who I was meant to be

Satan looked into my destiny and was consumed with jealousy

So, he tried to take me out by stealing my identity

But what He thought would be the death of me

God covered in blood and called ministry

-Lady Jay

Images Courtesy of Pixabay