The Girl

I am a girl.
A small word on the page
Of a book that tells a story
That is too great for words.

My character is swallowed up
By the Kings and Queens,
By the storms and battles,
And by all the radiant imagery.

Girl – a four letter word
That hardly describes
Yet so easily defines
And confines to the ink on the page.

My identity, however, is elusive –
Limited to adjectives,
Words from voices
That judge, compare, and rate.

It soon becomes clear
That I am not satisfied.
My world is quick to hate,
My character longs for love.

The people in this tale
Live in this hateful world
And see me for what I am –
Just a girl.

Why me on these pages?
I have become a joke,
Forgotten in the previous chapter,
Yet still there at the beginning of the next.

My story continues
And as a girl, I feel deeply –
Joy, sadness, hope, disappointment.
But mostly love.

My longings are not fulfilled
In my present setting.
The world’s quota of love
Cannot feed my soul.

Yet when all seems hopeless –
When my heart is starved,
Hungry with desperation –
A hero arrives on the scene.

Blinded by the fake luster
Of the picture before me
I pass him over with one glance,
Sure that his offer would fade like the rest.

But his eyes are unswerving.
Realizing the depths of my hunger
He does not look away
As He searches my hidden heart.

I turn away at the intensity of His stare
And He follows.
Persistently He pursues me
To discover the deepest needs of my soul.

I meet His gaze and I see
Something bold in His eyes –
Wells of shameless passion
Directed toward me.

He beckons to me
As I reach for His yearning arms.
He covers me with His love
And sees me for who I am.

My sins do not deny me His love.
I am worthy of pursuit
And I long for pure love.
I am a girl.