Am I Enough?
I’m afraid that I am not enough,
inadequate, lacking, measured and left wanting.
The scales upon which I have stood
are not weighted in my favor,
but are tipped toward insufficiency.
And what if these things are true?
What does that make of me?
Where then is my worth,
and what is my valuation,
if not in what I am able to provide?
What of my life, wasted and squandered
on the pursuit of acceptance and love?
Am I not worthy?
What is the standard by which I am meted?
And what of the debt that I can never repay?
Am I always to be in bondage to my creditors?
Am I no more than a slave
traded by master to master
with no freedom in my hands, but only shackles,
and no voice to speak up for myself?
But what would I say?
What words could I come up with
to plead the case on my behalf?
I feel so powerless and meager,
so weak and helpless against so great a foe.
You say I am a warrior,
but where is the strength of my heart?
My fears have kept me so small,
and my eyes so blind to the truth.
My enemies have towered over me,
oppressing me by their shadows,
and keeping me in their merciless grips.
What hope have I to stand against
such overpowering adversaries?
But if these lies are but shades over the light,
and this oppression a ruse for me to believe,
then what can be said of the truth?
Is it there in the light waiting to be discovered,
obstructed by hands casting shadow figures?
Do I have the courage to look?
Can I be brave enough to stand up
to those who would keep me broken and pitiful?
What do you say of me
and how do I believe it to be true?
What will it take to make my heart believe again,
for my eyes to see anew
and gaze upon your reality?
Where is the door that I may go free,
and where is the path that I may find my way?
Will you take me by the hand?
Will your voice be my guide?
Will you make my ears to hear you?
Will you speak with words that I can understand?
Will you tell me that you love me
and that I am worth fighting for?
Can I believe what you say?
Will you show me the way?
I have held myself to the old course too long.
It’s time to find my own road.
I have been ill defined
and have sold myself to that description
so that I have become what it prescribed.
But what do you say of me?
Who am I really, for I do not know.
I have dwelt so long in death’s womb
and I am just now breathing air.
Here is my hand reaching out to you.
Here is my broken life, there are pieces missing.
Here is my withered heart.
Will you nurse it back to health?
Here is my frailty, the summation of all I can give.
Will you accept my offering?
I have nothing more of value, nothing more of worth
than this shattered life.