Why is it
That I have to write?
That my insides scream out
Until it is all on paper
When it is on paper
The broken pieces
Of my heart
Are still there
But maybe by writing
It will
Lead me to the path
To collect them
With my huge roll
Of scotch tape
And be able to see clearly
How to hold them up to HIM
So He can put the pieces back together again
The words
The jumbled thoughts
The pieces
The broken shards of glass
Which threaten to cut me
All make sense
When he touches them
They become whole
And alive again
For it is the torn petals
That are fragrant to Him
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