Play With Me
I am laying in the dirt on the side of the playground, filthy and lonely.
Delicate tears slip down my face as I look up at all the boys and girls playing in the park.
There is dancing and cheering and all the children are on the monkey bars, the slide, swinging.
Quite a few are holding toy cars fires trucks and dolls, playing with them with a look of pure joy on their face.
I am a superhero barbie doll that has been thrown to the ground because my hair is matted, and my legs are broken off and I have scratches and imperfections.
I could make the children laugh and squeal and save the day.
I’d rescue cats too high in the tree, I’d put out fires, and stop thieves from robbing stores.
But I became weak, worn and beaten down and couldn’t perform at my best anymore.
The kids had no interest in me and thought of me as trash.
Down on the ground I lay,
as I watch the sun go down and the sun come up everyday...
... Days pass as I watch the children come into play and I’m reminded everyday that I am flawed and broken and have no value or worth left.
I cannot save the day, I cannot bring good to the world.
I was trapped in this mindset and just couldn’t escape.
Until one day a boy came along, and noticed me next to a bush, picked me up, brushed me off, flattened out my hair and straightened out my arms.
He then ran over to the playground and continued playing with the rest of the boys and girls.
“She’s broken and dirty, toss her away”.
“Ew”.
“Yuck why is that thing here”.
In confusion the boy responded saying, “There’s something a bit off, a bit crooked, but that’s beautiful”.
And he walked away to go play with himself as he slowly understood that not everyone can find beauty under the layer of debris that is brokenness.
