If God were the painter
For the canvas of life
Wouldn’t you think that He’d
Paint us as we truly were?
Her brown hair
His green eyes
Their tan skin?
No lies, fakes, or deceit
Who you really are
And wish everyone could see.

Wouldn’t you imagine
Him painting every single person
So that they could say
“There I am.
That’s me.
Right there.”

But in reality God
Would strip us down,
No face
No clothes
No skin color
No disabilities
Nothing to be judged by.

If God were the painter
For the canvas called life
He would paint what only He can see
Upon the rough textured surface
He would paint nothing
But our souls.

With iridescent shades
Of red, purple, and yellow
Mixing equally with light
And darkness
Until the canvas was covered
In a breathtaking display
Of color.

Now could you still say “That’s me?”
Or would you claim the soul
With the purest of whites
The brightest of golds
The most vivid
Sapphires, magentas, and lilacs
All for yourself.

When you know that your soul
Wouldn’t contain any
Of those hues or shade
But murky blues,
Wretched greens,
And overpowering browns
Are what you know is inside you.

You don’t want to be
In the frayed, dark corners
Not the true you
But in the brilliant middle
Once again, the center
of attention.