Walking the world in shoes that don’t fit,
Braced against the cold winds of change in a coat two sizes too big.
I’m wearing the trousers that I don’t like with the seam which itches, because they look smart.
Using pens when I want to paint, words when I want to act, walking when I want to skip.
I hitch a smile not for me but for the comfort of others.
To Jews I am a Jew, to Greeks a Greek, a neurotypical to neurotypicals, but who am I to me?
Who do you say that I am?
A foot pretending to be an ear in the Body of Christ? An eye trying to sniff the air or a knee holding a book?
I hear the voice of God call, “I knit you together in the womb, set you apart before birth. Sat with you in silence as you drew pictures as the other children played. I danced with you through the daydream as you were distracted by creation outside the classroom window. I was the comfort of your weird fascinations as you return from a day of fitting in. I helped remove your mask and makeup of ‘normal’ and passed you the comfortable clothes of You.”
“I am the one who set a plan and a purpose for you, a mission for the oddball, the weirdo, the unique. You cannot serve me as them you can only be YOU.”
“Do not try and be Andy or Emily, Matt or Ali, Bex or Nigel, they are already them.”
I’m doing it again.
I am going to stop,
Drop the mask,
And just,
Be,
Me.
Comments