come to me, Beloved.
come, straight with not a hint of a chaser:
no art on your face
nor hair made up and straight.
come to me in your most natural state.
allow me to see exactly what God done create.
let me see you in the “harsh” Light,
not just undercover “protected” by the night.
My Love, why the masks?
you know I must ask.
why do you feel you must always run from me,
hiding away your true identity?
what is it you do not wish for me to see?
Look into your mirror through my eyes.
do you see what I see-
your great beauty,
that you are infinitely worthy
just as you are
in your own eyes,
do you see in you the mystery,
and stubborn audacity?
and of the fine lines indelibly etched on your face-
do you see your long history and humble ministry?
do you, Baby?
what of your beautiful skin-
scarred, marred, unshaven, uneven?
therein, your unique composition,
not crafted to be ignored,
but deeply appreciated and fully explored.
do you see what I see, Baby?
your True Story,
your ineffable Glory.