This is a poem I wrote during a rough month I had a few years ago. It’s interesting to look back on how weary I was over what now appears to be so little. …But that’s just the way of rear-view mirrors. Objects may appear smaller than they are (or were). Though the poetics are terrible, I enjoy the memory of the trial this piece recalls. That I read it now with a smile reminds me that the trials I face today and tomorrow will also be looked on one day through the enduring lens of the rear view mirror.
We’re broken people
We’re shattered glass
A thousand pieces of sinful mass
We’re broken hearts
Clinging to threads
Of this single hope still pounding in our heads
Lord we confess
That we need you
So how long God till your word comes through?
Yes I confess
My strength is gone
Because the sword you hold has pierced my lungs
Now my breath has failed
My life’s run dry
This aching heart has lost its cry
We’re broken people
We’re shattered glass
A thousand pieces of sinful mass
We’re broken hearts
Clinging to the threads
Of this single hope still pounding in our heads.
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