by Marcie Bridges, @Marcie_Bridges
And He shall strengthen your heart,
All you who hope in the Lord.
|Broken Glass, www.pixabay.com|
hearing the crunch
of broken, shattered heart
underneath my feet.
Watching as one small crack
echoes through the windshield
splintering the view
once a perfect collage of colors
now fragments of pain
the making of mountains
out of ant hills.
Slicing bite size into minuscule
nothing left but a crumb
of what I once was.
I know the feeling
of sutures sewing wounds
binding the gauze
replacing the heart
beyond all hope.
Cracks, bruises, scars remain
but the pieces have been gathered
taped back together
still fragile, ugly, sore
but where once was despair
hope springs up like an
oasis in a deserted land.
A spark has ignited
perhaps there will one day be
to demolish all that’s been taken away.
Restoration will make its presence
the colors of Spring and Autumn
will pop out and refresh
bringing a heart once shattered
into love of life
~Marcell Warner Bridges
©29, October 2017
All Rights Reserved.
Lately I’ve been in a hole. Or, as the Psalmist would say, a pit.
Not necessarily of my own making, but it’s been dark and deep some days. I have scarred the palms of my hands and ripped up my fingernails trying to claw my way out.
There have been good days, but many more have been given over to discouragement and disgust.
And truthfully, I didn’t want to admit I was depressed. But, I had to finally face it and once again, seek help for it.
Life throws curve balls fast and hard sometimes. If we’re not careful, if we lose sight of who we are, we will get knocked down so hard we need an inhaler just to stay breathing.
Waiting on the Lord is a hard thing for me to do. I’ve never been one to enjoy silence. Solitude, yes. Silence, no. Especially the silence of God. Oh how I long to hear His sweet voice tickle the ear of my heart.
Maybe He is and I do not recognize Him. It’s possible, you know?
I recently told a close friend I feel like I’m trying to tape my life — my heart — back together and it just won’t stay put. Like a Band-aid that’s lost its stickyness.
So, here we are. Thanksgiving once again and as I write a new poem each day for 30 Days of Thanksgiving I find my spirit lifting a little more each day. Healing a bit more. Gaining renewed energy and strength.
Only God can do that. As God gives me the courage to face each day, to fight, to move forward, then perhaps — could it be — I’m hearing His voice after all?