I am that

I am that.

I did that.
Accuse me. It's true:
Misplaced and misused anger.
Spite. Vengeance.
Rage.
Fear.
Obsession.
Yes.

Do I crave approval?
Do I fear failure and avoid rejection?
I am that.
I did that.

Lustful.
Arrogant.
Foolish.
Clinging and
Blind.
Yes.

Dig deeper, though, and
Maybe you'll find--
Driving that search for approval--
I simply want to love
And to be loved.
That under my
Angry, spiteful, and vengeful sneer
Is confusion, twisted and turned out
In this strange maze.
And an aching emptiness.

That, I am.

No. You can't fill it.
Except when you smile.
When you take my hand deep into yours.
When you thank me.
When you tell me you believe in me.
I am filled by you, by me,
And by someone bigger,
In stages, or
By nature or gift, and always
Through redemption.

You can also accuse me of this:
Patient.
Understanding,
(I get it.)
I am listening
With mind and heart.
I am encouraging
And forgiving
(How can I not be?)

I am:
Full of humor, pride, strength, and
Victorious optimism
(Most of the time).

I am:
Hungry, always hungry,
Wanting to taste
More of life,
More of joy,
More of you.

I am:
Still easily fooled,
But not foolish.
I still fear,
But I am not afraid.
I have looked up, and
Climbed out from mazes.
But more than that,
I stand on
Forgiveness and
Grace.

He did that, and
I am this.
All of it.