Confessions, Identity and Hope

I was briefly lost in a world not my own.

Living with a forgotten identity.

While striving for eloquence, the cloud of silence grew.

The passion of my voice lay suffocating underneath the surface of truth.

In the pool of misguided intentions, 

I let others almost drown my most deep-felt convictions.

My self-destruction and guilt-ridden actions came along to reignite my words of hope inside.

The profession of my most desperate confessions has helped me find forgiveness from most of my transgressions.

With this that I decide, it is not now, or has ever been my intent to hide.

All that I have done with all that I hope to do has become the foundation of my life.

Beyond the past, I live now with such revelations that I hold true.

Although sometimes the rains of pressure try to force my concession,

knocking a wall of my belief down to nothing but rubble,

I no longer fear what dust remains because I have my words to use for my affirmation.

It is with the confessions of my fears and darkest indiscretions that I have learned to forgive and let go of old judgments.

Parting ways with the mistakes of an unreachable past helps to clear the stormy skies allowing the rays of hope to shine through. 

Just because I have learned to say goodbye to the broken walls of yesterday,

does not mean that the shattered bricks from the rubble of my history will not help to remind me of the smiles, laughter and tears that have helped create the design of my life. 

It is with my understanding of yesterday that I hope my deepest confessions will become a beacon of light giving others a chance to see the good within their own souls-no matter what demons they have hidden within.

For if not for our demons, the journey of our life would not lead to such great discovery.

It is with our open professions;

It is with our ongoing fight to preserve our identity;

It is with our hand held out to another;

and it is with the tears in our eyes and the smiles lit up inside that the beauty of hope will continue to grow.

© 2012 Elizabeth Rockhill