The Vip Room

Kimberley Linstruth-Beckom
I walked around the grounds
And saw crutch after crutch,
Piled together making one
Huge collage of life-like
New beginnings.
On the inside, colored glass
Beamed in the sunshine,
You didn't need
The ugliness of incandescent.
Everything about the place
Shined and gleamed
Like a car freshly washed
And waxed. I stood there,
In awe of its beauty
But I began to wonder,
Am I good enough
To set foot in here?
I am just an imperfect woman.
I am nothing like
The perfect beauty
Surrounding me now.
Does He know I'm here?
Should I have knocked first?
Would He want me here,
Basking in all of this beauty?
I hope He shows up.
Does He come here on
Days that don't start with S?
The chatter filled my head,
I left confused, ashamed,
Imperfect, and unworthy.
I finally found the ugly concrete
Of the outside.
I started to walk in a daze
Of thought and simplicity.
Left foot, right foot,
Left foot, right foot.
I looked up and there it was!
Big, sturdy, and quite old.
The leaves as bright
As they could be.
I ran to it like a school girl.
I stood underneath its bigness
And I looked up.
He's here.
I know He is,
I can feel Him.
I think I can hear
Him too!
He's saying that I don't need
An invitation.

Published by Kimberley Linstruth-Beckom

Nationally recognized blogger of Fibromyalgia (Health.com), award winning poet, home improvement buff, and avid gardener.  View profile

2 Comments

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  • Carrie Matilda8/30/2009

    I like how you leave subtle clues for the reader. It's not until the end that the power of the piece strikes me. Nicely done.

  • Michelle L Devon (Michy)5/3/2007

    Very beautiful... you actually have always had an invitation - it was extended to you the day your soul was born.

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