thoughts on the struggles of the human heart and the soul
The heart is a curious piece.
If wounded, it surely retreats…
The naked eye, gazing in-toward
Finds it lit dimly by loneliness…
but no words.
Down the corridor, further in the turn
A faint image of a soul is discerned
Curled up by the wall, hiding its face
It wants to reach out, it needs an embrace
The past and its cracking has done its work
Leaving this weary soul to hurt
The courage that it has is beyond refute
It will try, yet be hurt again, and cry out til it’s mute.
Each time it wonders what it did wrong
Maybe it turned ugly, or it has been so all along
It hides deeper and deeper inside of this heart
Acceptance it longs for, but it can’t map or chart
As the naked eye peers inside
It finds a hand reach toward the sky
Not to find another hand, not near…
It grasps and closes the opened tear
The wounded heart it stitches up
With threads of faith and hope and such
The trust is gone, but can’t be forgotten
For through that wound it let God in.