Monday, March 30, 2015

I wonder


(photo credit here)
I was born in a ambulance
Bright red and white
A sign, perhaps,
Of what is to come?

I was born at 8:07 on a Sunday morning.
Always in a hurry, struggling to rest

I wonder about my being born-
Why I made it out,
But the next beating heartbeat in my mother's womb did not.

Why God chose me to gasp in
Exhaling in scream

What He had in mind when
Sculpting,
Composing;
Designing my soul.

What immense work
I was knit to accomplish  

I’m perched here.
     Waiting
           Preparing
                  Learning.

They say the sky is limitless
That you can do anything,
Be the person you want

How can you embrace yourself
While striving to become
The person you wish to be?

How can you do anything
When told no?

I wonder these things.

Sometimes I fantasize.
Me wiping runny noses,
cooking dinner for my sweetheart.

Applying thick make-up  
Ready to run on stage,
To dance?
         To sing?
                  To act?

 Sitting in a clinic
Befriending muscles and bones
A framed parchment on the wall.

On a set  
Screen behind
Waiting to tell America their morning weather.

I wonder these things.

I wonder what God made me

    To fulfill 

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