Posted in Poemesque

In my cardboard gift box

A cloud rolls into my sky
Into the sky of those I love
And I’m longing for my true home.

This world I know is crumbling
A world in pieces from my birth
And I’m longing for my true home.

Connections I’ve made are tentative at best
With other broken humans like me
And I’m longing for my true home.

My pieces are being put together from the ashes
The new me is at odds with the original
And I’m longing for my true home.

He’s letting me stumble about in His grace
As I’m likely making others stumble
And I’m longing for my true home.

The crumbling, healing me is not capable of this longing
Yet He holds me together by hands that I pierced
As I’m longing for my true home.

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Author:

I rock. I also paper and scissors.

Come on. Let it out. You know you want to.

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