Tip:
Highlight text to annotate it
X
Hi, my name's Oasis Hernandez and this is a spoken word poem entitled
"Finding Beauty in God Alone." I remember playing soccer with my team.
I was the only girl and had been taught by the world that I was weaker
and meeker, and if I fell down and cried, the "big boys" would be penalized.
I remember walking around own home
and my unsaved father who didn't understand the power of his words
mentioned something about how much weight I had gained, and because I had been hypnotized
was mesmerized by the lies media had beautified, I cried.
How can we blame society
when we are society? Because I see humans but no humanity.
When did I stop feeling beautiful?
Because it I remember correctly (and I remember distinctly)
I'm sure there's a Psalm that discredits our misery;
a poem of some Biblical proportions that reminds us to find us
not in the world but in the kingdom of the Holy One,
the only one in whom our beauty is found; the one who solely picks us up
off of our quicksand ground and places us back in the ring
waiting for the next round. We have no reason to think we're not beautiful
enough good, special enough,
because we were made by the only One who is beautiful enough, good enough,
special enough. We've got God's signature in our DNA,
and when we look in the mirror out of jealousy Satan feeds us
lies that say: you're fat! You're ugly! You suck!
The question is not "how many times have I heard those things?"
but "how many times have I said those things to myself?"
Because it hurts more when is our own voice
echoing back the word-vomit we've allowed ourselves to believe.
Will we allow our demons to win?
Will we let a Devil our self-love
twist and spin? Because if I'm not mistaken
God wasn't faking when he made us beautifully and wonderfully.
And I will shout because my soul knows that. Right?
Well, do you? 'Cause I'm pretty sure that that God who breathed
the stars into existence didn't make any mistakes.
Those freckles you hate? They're skin stars;
constellations of melanin God brushed on with purpose.
The weight you so despise? There's more of you
love. And your "plain brown" eyes? No.
The Creator of the universe didn't choose some static hexadecimal code
to put into the windows of your soul. They aren't some plain
#663300! They're the color of a
freaking sepia galaxy! And the glossy magazines that pull us in; the pretty printed
pictures a fake teeth and airbrushed skin.
Well I'll tell you the truth: as much as I'd like to look like the girl on the
cover of Vogue,
I'm sure that the girl on the cover of Vogue
wishes the same thing! Don't think she didn't get a little help here and there
to look so sweet!
"A few skipped meals, years of
exercise and, oh, did I forget to mention a
cyber-toolbox of photoshop cheats!? Why do we feel the need to glamorize pain?
Why is it attractive to spit on God's name?
Because that's what we're doing when we're appreciative ourselves;
we're saying "God you screwed up! I'm feeding into the lies of Hell!"
What right have we to say that to Yahweh?
Are we so selfish
to think that we deserve more than what we've been given?
A cuter nose? A brighter personality?
Bigger *** perhaps? Because I'm not going to sugarcoat what Hollywood screams:
you need bigger *** to win the man of your dreams! And girls
if you believe that, your ignorance I understand;
but guys if you agree you're boy
don't dare call yourself a man. What's
our obsession with the outside this species?
What happened to have the attitude of the Psalmist
in the 139th chapter? Why are youth and frivolity all we're seeking after?
I've seen cats with more self-love than this generation!
Is it not enough to rejoice in the fact that you are God's creation?! Because if
you look
really deep, and really hard
really long, you'll find that underneath
all this skin and muscle we're really just a skeleton;
all of us are bone. And it's high time these bags of calcium
found sanction in knowing our beauty is only found
in God alone.