Do you know this Child of God?

Identity Theft

Dark and cold, my eyes open to the same; unfamiliar to where I am.
Exhaling my air I realize in the mist of the dust I’m kissing the dirt’s crust.
Beaten and bruised I call to you, the you to whom I am unaware....alone.
Sitting up I am still blind, to feel my face is a clean slate; my identity was left behind.

For years a name labeled the “who” or even the “what,” yet an unbeknown the “why” hasn’t been caught; the “runaway” that has been the allude.
The strived for seems to run its coarse in the maze of the unfounded, the life you wish you had, yet the reality that which you try to focus through.
What is your picture? What is your movie? Has your identity left also through the butt of a “doobie”?

Your purpose to breathe is to forward a life, yet with each inhale you feel the bumps of brail; fingering around yet another unknown translation.
Your mind desires to speak, yet your words are gibberish; you are a mute.
The heart paints the vision of the masterpiece you wish to be; all of your colors though run like the stream, the identity of all your dreams.

Crying can shed no more tears due to their own evaporating of these unknown fears; emotions are kept dormant like reality’s understanding.
Unplanned failures mimic unexplained behaviors each baring weight upon the shoulders dropping a spirit to the depths of this dark prison again.
The cycle, to which continues, victimizes my being since I first knew you.

You....the one I think to know, yet still fades to memory when a need is in a rut; to the loved ones they see the “me” I truly need to dig out and be.
Sifting the negative, the lowly, the confused and the slow; what seeds would be left to let the Son groom and grow?
To be planted in the field of purpose with each day to sow; my frailness needs to understand and come to know....know the “who” and the “why” this life bestows.


Exhaustion has cost my senses to see, frustration continues consuming me.
Let the paint dry, the masterpiece defined! Then a heart could embrace the “who am I”?
Knelt down you are back where you came, still pondering the whom to blame; lying in the fetal, the picture is left...why am I the victim of this identity theft?

Chad E. Taylor 2/29/08