A History of Brokenness

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.

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