BETWEEN TWO WORLDS

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Trapped between two worlds…

I cannot go forward

But I cannot go back to who I’ve been
The path ahead is broad and inviting

I need only take one step

And I’m carried all the way 

The path behind, the straight and narrow

Holds trails of my blood dripping

As I have walked it all this time. 
The path set before me, the one I need take,

Is the path I am supposed to have left behind

The path left behind me, the one I must take

Is the path I am supposed to leave behind
“Never look back!” “Never go back!”

I learnt on the path I now leave behind

So how then, am I to go back?

To look back at what was? 

To follow again the straight and narrow

When it’s the path I leave behind?
I’m still pressing on the upward way

And my way has led me here 

Do I walk on forward to the broad way future

Or do I turn back? Retreat? Surrender?

Retrace my blood trailed steps 

To live out my future in the past?
I am Trapped between two worlds…

I cannot go forward

But I cannot go back to who I’ve been 

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SCARS (Contd)

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… Then I began to realise,”nobody knows who I really am…”

“Nobody can recognise me…”

“Nobody knows my name.”

 

But somebody did…

And He picked me up…

And He cleaned me up…

And He called me by name…

Not liar, or misfit… He knew my name.

And His voice was sweet as the nectar and smooth as honey…

And His hands were warm and gentle as he washed me clean with the water of His Word…

And his touch was so tender,

I didn’t even feel the needle stitching me back together again…

And in His eyes was the beauty of sunrise and sunset,

Setting my fractures and mending my wounds

And by the time He was through, they were nothing but scars…

Those scars…

And I said, “Jesus, if you would heal me, “Why leave the scars? They only remind me of the hurt…”

I didn’t understand then, you see…

Those scars…

The ones He left behind were not only to remind me of the hurt…

They were to remind me of the pain

And the times I hurt so bad

And the loneliness

And the anger

And the loss

And the rejection

And the times I was misunderstood… 

And the people I trusted to be for me

Went before me to hail me as the queen of the sinners and the condemned…

And I still hear their taunts…

And the names…

And I remember the feel of the earth as I lay dying,

With smoke in my eyes,

And the smell of the dust filling my lungs and the taste of my own blood in my mouth…

And you may wonder why I wear them so proudly… 

And you remember me by the scars you gave me,

By the names you called me…

Like liar and loser, and weak and dysfunctional, disobedient, a prostitute, disloyal, fake, unreliable, emotional…

And you look at them and see only flaws

That do not meet your standard of perfection…

Because they symbolise the hardships…

And failures and all the imperfections I embody.

 

These scars…

And as my shutting eyes fall upon these scars…

I feel it all again… And then I remember…

These scars are the trophies I carry from my battles.

They are the proof that I am more than a conqueror.

And you too will one day recognise me by the scars you have me,

Because they remind me not only of what I’ve been through…

They remind me that I survived.

Excerpt From: Okoye, Xyvah. “Zayin.” iBooks.