My journey had been about biting off mouthfuls
Of the container containing my boldness…
When no fault was found in how I bit,
The way I chewed enticed the bowels of criticism
To seduce, if not vomit,
Then certainly shame for bearing daring hunger.
I lived my second lifetime
Long and so ashamed
To eat in the presence of the blame
Of fearful mediocrity…
Until the day I saw the hand of the Lord
And the table spread It had prepared,
And realized the vexation around my hunger
Had only ever been about the enemy’s opposition
To God’s awesome plan to feed it.
And towards that table spread
I knew I could
Take the wooly itchy sticky blame
Off my neck, and back, and shoulders
To step into my third life
Where I am free to eat.