NOT BEYOND REPAIR
Sweep the shards of our broken hearts
And rearrange them to Your Liking
In a magnificent stained-glass window
Fit to adorn Your Cathedral.
We sure hope that the painful pangs
That plague our evolving egos
Only heralds better things to come
Once the Peace that exceeds
Our shortsighted understanding
At last, engulfs us all in its oversized mantle.
We are past our breaking points,
We are scared out of our wits,
And beg for You to intervene
And bring us back to our senses.
Yet, in our well-meaning pursuits
To gain some semblance of clarity
And force a blissful epilogue,
We tread on the hornets’ nest of iniquity
Unleashing anew a pandemonium
Of panicky and stinging fury
That inflicts another round of searing welts
To our bleeding hearts and distraught souls.
We shed buckets of tears of agony.
Down on our knees, we invoke You,
The One Who peeks way beyond our earthly horizon,
And gets to behold the untold heavenly glories
Lovingly assembled in the Promised Land
Of our divinely ordained final destination.
We are fueled by the wishful thinking
That You will intuitively know how to skillfully salvage
The scattered nuts and bolts of our shattered personas
And mold us into invincible superheroes
Proudly wearing the colorful Medals of Valor
We rightfully earned during the epic skirmishes
When our higher Selves got the upper hand
Thus, becoming the privileged recipients
Of a much-coveted spot
On the crowded ceiling of Your Sistine Chapel
Where we, at last, can get a strong hold
Of Your outstretched Hand—never to let go of it again.
Anyas Spencer, Medford, Oregon, October 26, 2019