She weeps offscreen,
Years of bruises thrive
Breaking open unseen
And she’s so strong to survive
Her brokenness.
I smile a hollow smile,
But the lantern is black
I embrace what I revile
And can never take back
My brokenness.
We survived the rocky womb
Dashed to pieces, but breathing
Hoping for a chance to bloom
Before we finished bleeding out
Our brokenness.
And we can’t stay in the lines
So we suffer the scold
For breaking the confines,
For not doing as we’re told,
For not staying broken.
We’re easy to clasp,
But impossible to keep
Because no one has surpassed
The temptation to reap
Where we’ve been broken.
Love doesn’t plunder the cleft
To feed base appetites,
And I’ve only learned this is theft
From the God who weeps at the sight
Of our brokenness.
A God who swears to fashion it for our good,
To make it better than intact
Who entered our misery and withstood
The same bitter attacks
To be broken for us.
Slowly making all things well,
But this process stings,
So we wait for the healing
Only He can bring:
Our Wounded Healer.
viewingcamelot 
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