Sheds In Succoth.

I’m reliving moments of my past.

And finally, at last,

It doesn’t seem entwined with who I am.

*

I am ripping the parts that trapped me in,

And He tells me not to worry….

That I can come empty,

shed the sin for real,

not just pretend to heal.

*

I think of what it means to be free,

To be true,

To be a better version of me,

To really be made new.

*

Is it accepting the evil within because it exists,

Like scientists and self-books insist?

Or rejecting it….

To be molded into something more holy,

Allowing the scriptures unfold me slowly.

*

Tell me:

do i embrace the ugly because its “mine”?

Or throw it off because its not divine?

*

How then can I become a better me,

If I let the rot stay just to “be real” and free?

*

So I’ll pause beneath the trees of memory,

Build a shelter for the me he’s freeing,

And sheds for the burdens l’d be fleeing.

*

Sheds….

Where the weight of survival is no longer my identity.

Where I house the remnants of pain,

But no longer let them feed from my hands.

No longer obeying their old commands.

*

I settle in Succoth,

In the in-between,

Not quite where I began,

And not yet where I’m going.

*

But here, in the slow grace of shedding,

I become.

Fully enriched with his Spirit.

And the journey ahead is just beginning,

A sacred unspinning,

To the unfolding of my glory,

To last for all eternity.

*

One truth at a time, one shed after another,

The I AM’s culling the ugly within,

And rewriting my story.