Another chance to seize destiny.
To stand in front of the mirror,
dreaming how much prettier I’ll be this year,
glorifying and gloating in myself.
But resolutions quickly falter
and that glass altar I worshiped at
shatters before I even make it to spring.
This year, I don’t want a temporary fix
for a wound that reopens time and time again
and has to be restitched.
I don’t want a band-aid
for my cuts and bruises
or a momentary muzzle for my excuses.
I want a whole new man,
stripped of my ragged clothes
and adorned in the sparkling, white robes
of your righteousness and majesty.
This year, I am resolved to become
more of you and less of me.