Broken Wings and Crushed Dreams

Stinging pain in my mind,

I reach for fragments lost to pride.

I try to gather what slipped through my hands,

but shame rises like a tide.

Broken. Guilty.

Dirt upon my face—

a life that feels like disgrace.

How can I let in love

when brokenness stabs so deep?

Breath is hard to find.

Alone, I plead:

“Please, dear God—why can’t I get it right?

Why does it feel so hard just to be me?”

Terrors come like thieves in the night,

stealing peace, filling my marrow with fear.

I cry out, “Whose voice is this?

His? Hers? Mine?”

Confusion dines at my table,

leaving me starved of truth.

And yet, even in despair, my heart whispers—

“Please, dear God, pick me up.

Hold me close.

Fight back the darkness that stalks my nights.

Anchor me in Your love,

before pride devours me whole.”

Broken wings.

Crushed dreams.

Shame behind me, terror around me—

yet ahead, a horizon unfolds.

Colors radiant, a feast prepared,

a future I had not dared to dream

My wings—once shattered—stir with life.

Dreams once crushed breathe again.

Drums resound, a rhythm of beginnings.

To that beat, I rise and walk.

Head lifted high, I see Him—

my Beloved drawing near.

Eyes ablaze with love,

lips that kiss away the ashes off my brow.

His fingers entwine with mine,

a bond formed before time began.

Strength encircles me.

Roots of fortitude sink deep into my ground.

The story of my brokenness is not my end.

For in His hands, broken wings still fly,

and crushed dreams live again.