Silence and the Shroud of Shame: A poem about lies & identity
Prophetic Poetry Series: Poem #4
Hello lovelies,
This week’s poem came to me, ebbing and flowing like a current of sorts. It is a deeply reflective piece of what I am working through.
Recently, I have been under some spiritual attacks, which is to be expected as someone who puts out christian content. With that came a shame spiral and a struggle and I had to keep reminding myself of who I am to God. Standing on His truth and not my own idea of it.
The world likes to project an identity onto us, often unwarranted and without consent. It certainly is not easy to have the courage to keep showing up as your authentic self, as its costly and met with resistance. People are quick to belittle or judge you for stepping out in courage, but you cannot let the seed of shame take root, nor live out of a false identity from that place.
If you battle with your identity, remember there is one who holds you, lovingly affirming you as His precious child. Even if you feel lost or unsure, there is a God who fights for you, restoring the parts of you that don’t feel good enough. You are chosen.
I sat in the silence, sewing shards of self into a shroud
Myths, beliefs, meanderings, moments and half-truths, stitched into being,
the more I labored on them, the more I started seeing.
Lies fashioned as labels that trailed and caused me to trip.
Tethered to the enemy, this shroud of shame held its grip,
like a corset that cuts and constricts.
The silent mind is treacherous terrain like open water
unpredictable and untamed, yet cloying and claustrophobic all the same.
I wasn’t fluent in silence, this inaudible storm that surged inside,
for I had no one to share it with in this ocean of dry eyes.
Until faith came knocking
He sat with me, bottling my tears-
labelling them with a love that drives our all fear.
He didn’t speak but His presence softened the silence, taking on its weight.
A perfect peace perforated in its place, and the lies that bound me- fell away.
I knew I had returned home, for He carried Heaven’s hiding place.
A lightness fluttering that formed this garment of grace
the voice of truth echoed quietly in the folds.
Words with wings that brushed their feathers delicately against the wounds I wore.
‘You are enough’, ‘you are chosen’ they whispered, rippling around me.
With Love & Prayers
Georgie