In the Broken

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Heartbroken, by the most unlikely of means
I'm not as tough as I thought, it seems.
Babba, if You can work with broken things,
Then come into this heart and build again.
I sit as sands run through my hand
Every security, certainty, plan
Mingled in dust, gone with the wind
Yet hurt stays me from returning to the beginning.

How do I know I won't end here once more?
How can I rebuild this high only to watch it fall?
How do I know I'll find, this trip, this time
The path that wont make of my hopes a lie?
No guarantees and yet I must
Do nothing but give You my trust.
Exhale my fears, put my hand in Yours
Trudge this trail, however heavy the Cross.
For Babba, however rough the road
I cannot say I've walked alone
So if You still have some journey left for me
I'll crawl, limp, walk - and someday, I'll run free.

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