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Writer's picturePaula Marolewski

Broken


Broken,

I laid it in His hands.

My fingers trembled

under the weight

that was light as ashes

and insubstantial as dust.


There was no movement

no breath

no heartbeat

to stir the dull feathers.


Something that had once

sparkled in sunlight

lay dull and matte.

Something that had once

voiced vibrant song

lay crushed and silent.


He held it gently.

Put His arm around

my heaving shoulders.

We sat there

a long, long time.

Together.


Broken dreams

broken wings

broken voice

broken heart.


“The Lord is near to the brokenhearted

And saves those who are crushed in spirit.”

~ Psalm 34:18

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