Our Brokeness [A Poem For Lady Rae]

Precious things broken:
He often repaired them,
in the shop next to His father's house.
Some took longer than others to fix.
He taught others the patience of a good craftsman,
while the world would have said hurry on by.
Later, on two pieces of Roman wood,
He, too, was broken;
numbered among thieves;
and buried by weeping friends,
who lingered briefly, then hurried on by.
Now He lives
to love all that are broken,
and He rejoices to repair them,
from the rooms of His Father's house.
He will linger with them as long as they need.
He will have no reason to hurry on by.

 

Starward

 

[jlc]

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yellowspecks's picture

what a wonderful reminder. thank you. Rae