shedding skin

You have made it a part of nature

shedding what is old, allowing new growth.

Creeping serpents and crawling lizards leave their skin behind

revealing growth beneath,

growth that has been in the process,

but has been unseen.

It can't be seen until the old is removed.

Removal of the old takes a while.

It does not just simply fall off.

A lizard must rub her head and body against rough surfaces

to help the molting along.

I feel slightly familiar with the process.

Rubbing off what is no good, wrestling to be released

from what keeps the newly grown me from appearing,

struggling between the rough and difficult places,

hope urging me to keep on with the struggle

for there is something good waiting.

The lizard sheds her skin, showing a shining, smooth outer self.

I shed mine, not for what shows on the outside,

but to reveal Your continued work on the inside.

A little message from You to me, saying You do not give up on me.

Reminding me that You are the One I must rely on,

You are the One I must present myself to,

You are the One I stand before.

If I were only to present myself to all my equals,

the fellow pilgrims on this earth,

the molting would not seem so tough.

They can only see so much of me.

Surely I could attain man's measure of goodness.

But before You I am fully exposed.

Those quiet dark places inside that want to refuse to grow and change,

You light those places, allowing me to see them for what they are,

inhibitors to my growth.

You offer me real growth so You can show Yourself in this little mortal,

and I hold tight to You because molting happens more than once in a life.