A Discussion

Melinda Williams

With you I am well pleased.
     With whom?
     With me
     Can’t be.
     Don’t you see the blemishes,
          the bad hair,
          the awkward body,
          the constant fear?
     Can’t you sense the guilt,
          the doubt,
          the shame,
          the judgements handed out?
     Don’t you know my insecurity,
          my pain,
          my need to fit in,
          my sin?
     Don’t you realize how displeased
          I am with me?

You are my beloved.
     Can’t be.
     Surely not today,
          not without some change,
          not with how I feel,
               how I look,
               who I am . . .
     I conceal the emptiness within
          and hide the loneliness;
     I build walls,
          and hold doors closed,
          making it hard to fill the holes;
     I find it easy to accept
          that I stand alone—
               less whan whole.

You are my beloved;
with you I am well pleased.
     If only I could believe,
     perhaps I would be free
          to be,
          to see
a me that is pleasing,

               worth loving,
               worth being.
     If I haven’t already messed it up,
          perhaps I could be
          enough . . .

You are my beloved.
     I am your beloved?
With you I am well pleased.
     I am beloved. 

—from devozine (May/June 2004). Copyright © 2004 by The Upper Room®. All rights reserved.
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