Her Face

The very concept of make-up is a tragedy
An idea that in some ways can border on blasphemy
The audacity that we human beings think we can “make-up” for what we perceive to be God’s mistakes is a fallacy.

In not all but some cases a compact mirror becomes a reflective prison for the true identity of the young woman.
She’s locked in a cell staring at the ones on her face
Everyday the jailer opens the gates to paint her with insecurity before slamming them shut again.

Her foundation was once on Christ the Rock, who freely gave her grace when He bled for her and died
But now her foundation is on a dusty brush and it’s manually applied.
On this foundation she builds a fortress, an impenetrable disguise
Her natural skin gives way to an outer wall of lies.

“Concealer” lacks the subtlety to require exposure making onlookers blind
While lipstick can do its job of sticking lips together to keep her from speaking her mind
No one cares that she doesn’t know who she is as long as she can paint on a new face everyday and decide.
She sleeps at night hoping to keep the identity she stuck to her face
But the stained pillow of the morning-after brings her back to reality.

The role of the models on the TV is to make her wonder why she doesn’t look as good as them.
“Maybe she’s born with it, maybe she can develop it… maybe it’s” …maybe it’s make-up!
Maybe it’s something else but one thing’s for sure, there’s no self-esteem being sold at that store.

She just wants someone to tell her she’s pretty.

She met a girl who told her she once had the same desire
But she found a book that made her set her standards even higher
As she dropped the Compact she found this book was an Impact mirror, transforming the way she saw herself
Seeing through the flaming eyes of Deity her blemishes melted away in the intensity of His love
His purpose spun her perspective

He looked past the prison bars of her ma-Scarred eyelashes and she came out to meet Him
A choke-hold was broken along with the Alabaster
Face to face with her Creator for the first time, in the pages of a book!
The staring contest continued on, the make-up bag? Forsook.

She still wears make-up to this day but now there’s nothing to hide
Her face now bears the outward grace of the beauty that is inside.

Find the rest of my poems HERE

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