Identity

N.B. I have been finding it rather difficult to sleep these last few weeks, falling back into old sleeping patterns and ways of thinking.

Since returning to work from the summer break, I have been learning more and more about myself, how I react to things, and how I adapt and change in every situation that I feel unable to cope in. I have been challenged by a number of peoples' questions and enquiries, and left many a conversation feeling glad for sharing a bit more of myself than I normally do.

Phil’s sermon on Sunday evening was based on the first part of Romans, the very first part, and he talked about who Paul was as a person, and who he saw himself as. As part of that, he quoted the film, ‘Hook’ when Wendy says to Peter, “Don’t you know who you are?” He posed this question to the congregation, who of course just murmured back a response.

But, due to the circumstances I mentioned earlier, this question hit me hard. Recently, it is all I have been thinking about. What makes me who I am? What am I defined by? I know that my identity is found ultimately in Christ, that is not what I am talking about. I am talking about on earth, this very second, I am completely unable to define who I am as a person. I don't know why, and I don't know when this realisation occurred. But I know that I have it. A complete incomprehensible illiteracy for reading who I am.

*sigh* You don't really understand what I'm going on about do you? Okay. So, erm.... I guess the only way to really explain it is this:

"Too many nights I have waited for darkness to cover me.

Too many dawns I have burned in my mind.

I don't know who I am, or where I am going.

No matter how much I laugh and smile, inside I'm broken.

It's a pain deeper than anything I've ever known before.

When I cry, I feel like the world is falling apart.

And when I write it all the darkness in me comes out.

Sometimes I stay awake all night just to avoid the nightmares.

When you leave me alone, I feel completely isolated.

When you don't talk to me, I feel abandoned and rejected.

But I believe it's because I am not good enough.

So I wear a mask to hide how much it hurts inside.

And most of the time it works because I don't let you look in my eyes.

I can't control how I'm feeling.

And I can't explain why I feel sad.

But I want nothing more than to feel like I am worth something.

And to know that you like me for who I am, not what I do.

I wish I had better words to describe how I'm feeling.

But to be honest, I really don't understand myself right now."

Tattered

Look down where those battered shoes lay

Ruined remains of a life, now rotting on the rubbish heap

They once ran down muddy paths

In and out of makeshift huts and houses

And now they lay, abandoned.

Tattered and torn.

Look down where that battered dress lay

Ruined remains of a life, now rotting on the rubbish heap

It once danced on a concrete platform
In and out of many laughing children

And now it lays, abandoned.

Tattered and torn.

Look down at where that body lay

Shameless excuse of life, on the rotting rubbish heap

She scavenged this place for something to sell

In and out of toxic rivers

And now she sleeps here, abandoned.

Hope tattered and torn.

Look down at the house where that baby lay

A new life, where poverty reigns

He will live and die in this place

Just like so many before him.

Innocent now, as he lays, new born.

In muddy rags, tattered and torn.

Vulnerable

N.B. Excuse me for a second, I really need to let this out or I am not going to get to sleep tonight. Sometimes, I just feel like everythings building in my subconscious and the only way to get it out is to write something. And so I write and I write, and eventually, words form together, and after a while, I carry on writing odd thoughts, whatever words pop into my head really. And thats how most of my poems come about.

I realised today that although some people think I am fairly open on here, a lot of my emotions I don't show, because I choose to write about them somewhere else, and only really spiritual or good things make it onto this blog. But thats not only what my journey has been about - and thats what I wanted this blog for, to record the journey of faith I was starting in Southend. There are times when I feel rubbish, and have failed. Times when I am struggling, when I am annoyed, or upset. Like tonight. After returning from a really good dinner, some things stayed in my head that I had been talking about that I realised actually bothered me a lot more than I let on. Part of building relationships is being vulnerable to people. Letting people in. I'm generally not so good at letting people in. My head is full of all kinds of things which I keep closely guarded under lock and key the majority of the time. But here is a chance to get inside my head. Enjoy it while it lasts.

I am torn
And inside, it hurts
Have two opposing courses of action
Ever seemed so far from one another?
Has a single moment, in all its glory
Ever truly made the distinction between
Hope and sorrow?
I am lost in the darkness
And through each little thing
That builds to this crescendo,
Slowly devouring my spirit,
I cry out, can anyone help me?
I know that someday,
This might put an end
To the way things have become.
And that knowledge, that conception:
It kills me
And I cannot stop it
Things have moved beyond my control
I am a spectator, a predictor
I have seen this all before.
But I am powerless. A weak bystander –
Soaked by the rain of bitterness and betrayal
I want to help.
But I cannot.
I am a failure: a mockery
A mere shadow that haunts the past
A scar that remembers the wound
Can ever one person mean so little?
I have failed you, dear brother.
And I am so very sorry.

Ami Wager © 2008