Work

I sit in that canteen, look out the window and think "what"... "What is out there?" there has to be more than a football Stadium that my eyes can see. I become what I behold, what can I see? What do I behold? What is on my mind, that can be called divine and sacred, and help me move from a rejected young woman to an adopted child of God? I no longer find pleasure or find the physical appreciation of which i am subject, tasteful. I am the epitome of the figure produced by two colliding backgrounds, cultures.

Mentally, this has caused distress and identity confusion. I used to refer to myself as an Afro-European, although unsure of what that term meant.

But I'm a citizen of the Kingdom now Skies should be brighter, even under the assault of heavily discolored clouds. Yet... the bold, blue and capital letter "NORTH STAND" still stands, blinding my foresight, stuck on its walls...Overpowering my panoramic without much space for the sunny canopy or anything else that may be bright.

And it seems as though I have become all I can behold.