Identity

The first four lines of this poem came from a movie called Identity.  They stuck with me for a while but seemed incomplete.  It needed a conclusion.  So I tried to give it one and it went on and on until I ended up with this:

As I was going up the stairs

I met a man who wasn't there.

He wasn't there again today;

I wish, I wish he'd go away.

I talked with him for quite a while.

I said, "You don't exist!"  He smiled

And said, "I know I don't, but you

Keep me alive."  Somehow I knew

The truth of his identity,

But still refused to let my plea

Be heard.  Instead I fed him more;

This man who didn't exist but bore

A striking similarity

To voiceless words of clarity

From days gone by.  I asked again,

"If your existence still depends

On me then how is it that I

Cannot eradicate this lie

That takes on life and gives you breath?"

He said, "The rumors of my death

Were false.  It's you, not me that died,

Remember?  I'm alive!"  I tried

To figure out this mystery;

For until now his history

Had been a shadow, nothing more.

And now he'd come back to restore

My mind to blissful ignorance.

I wept.  I could not seize the chance

To escape this massive burden.

Was he my own Tyler Durden?

He laughed, "I'm more than that, you fraud!

It's not that simple!"  "Oh dear God!"

I cried; I knew.  "That's why I act

The way you do in all you lack,"

He said.  But knowledge still implied

The breath of life in that which died.

He laughed and roared as I grew weary

Of this game, but slightly leery

Of his brazen insolence.

From him or me I know not whence.

How could this deadly villain be

Alive, but not, yet charging me

With stealing his identity?

'Twas then I sought to find the key

To this enigma.  So confused

Was I that he had died but used

The life I gave him.  Or did he

Give birth to my hypocrisy?

I shouted, "Was it I or you

That fed the beast?"  My anger grew

To fury as I sought relief

From my tormented disbelief.

And then I turned the light on just

As I began to wipe the dust

From off the cover of the book

And found my place.  His features shook

And trembled now as I recalled

Those grand old truths.  He sat appalled

As I began to read about

The Second Adam.  And no doubt

The reason that I was alive;

The book of Romans, chapter five.

"You've had your reign, and for a time

Will still continue to remind

Me of myself, but you are not

What will define this molded pot

Of clay.  There is Another who

Has died so that the one you slew

Could rise with Him as He declares

The truth that you no longer share."

Comments

[arongahagan]

Amazing poem, Micah--an almost "Dostoevskyian" portrayal of our inner conflict as redeemed sinners still at war with indwelling sin.

Thanks for sharing it...

AG

[Jessica]

Thanks for sharing the poem..it is a reality all saints know of all too well. Oh wonderful day when faith will be turned to sight and we will no longer battle with our old man.

[Jamie]

Fabulous.

[bamber]

excellence.