What is this rumble?
What is this roar?
Who is this beast
Which claws within?
Why does it hurt
When covered up?
Why does it sting
When not allowed out?
What can be done
To suppress these groans,
To stunt this growth,
To silence this voice?
Which pounds and protests
And pleads with me,
“Let me out.“
I try to hide it,
I try to deny it,
I try to ignore it,
It won’t go away.
So I try to appease it.
I try to relieve it,
And then I dismiss it,
But it’s here to stay.
So I very, very slowly,
I reluctantly peel back
And unpack all of the debris
Of made up insecurities,
To which I feel fists of strength
Beating beneath
Wrecking and ravaging
Working to break free.
I feel fingertips of gentleness
Stretching out forth,
Creeping forward and crawling
Out of every cracked door.
I feel the breath of boldness,
Determined and steadfast,
Getting louder and closer
As it nears the surface.
I feel the rumble of love
And hear the roar of grace
And I, at last, behold
The comely beast’s face.
But it’s not what I expected,
No, not at all.
It is wondrous and awesome,
And I am awestruck and still.
For it is Beauty itself,
Which has emerged from within
It is Beauty itself,
Who wears my skin
And boasts my scars
And bares my heart
And scarily resembles
Me.
—–
—–
“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, ‘Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?’ Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world.” –Marianne Williamson in A Return to Love
