Marbled Clusters of disbelief, beliefs, ridicule and
documentary run in circles, layer beneath, and coil
through the images, dreams, and ambitions of my mind.
They often forsake reality for the ideal,
Renew calamities of the past,
Deny fortunes beheld me.
Pass judgment on my soul
And yet they are not real.
They are lies presupposed, populated and foisted by
the forthright, the envied, the deceived. They find
temptings in the mundane and jump out from the
darkness when I least expect them. And yet they are
not real. They are programmed.
Like the distant whistling of a chime at onward’s
doorstep, they are heard only for what they are in my
quiet moments. Their destructive power is
immeasurable. And yet they are not real.
They are lies, they are remembered, they are burnt
into my psyche. And yet they are not real.
Not real by the standards of my heavenly Father, not
real by the words within Jeremiah, Ecclesiastes and Ruth.
Not real by the measurement of my new identity in Christ.
Not real within the fostering of a new mind.
I will hold my life accountable to a new standard,
a new ruler, and stop judging the inch gained by the
mile unwalked, not measure fortunes in dollars alone
but in number of lives counseled,
Not believe the myth of self inherited.
I will heed the voice—observe the voice—but will Veto the voice
For the voice is not mine. The voice is not God.
The voice is a cursed lie.
I will brand my identity in the new walls of my mind.
I will develop a new pattern as I continue to refuse
the lies of the enemy.
I have regained and cast again that grain once lost to hard soil.
I will overcome the patterns of flesh that would to do me in.
I will no longer work to disprove or prove these lies
seeking to keep me down.
I will walk as I am, not as I’ve heard myself to be.
© Glenda Powers 2002
