Brush the past off my shoulders
Vestiges of me echoing in memory's halls
I saw you there, clearly in my dream
Homeless wanderer, knocking on my door
Came home from school one day, afraid to find you
Thought you'd be dangling from your own web, in a big white barn
Now you dangle, dead to me. Yet calling. Crying.
I've wept this well dry
My penny didn't land in the wishing well
I've learned to leave "well enough" alone
So sorry. So sad.
You lost me, now I can't stop wandering
Forgiveness, I've poured out, time and again
Judgement, I've given to God. Acceptance, Yes
But then I see underneath it all waits a little girl.
Peek-a-boo, do you see me? Can you feel my aching heart?
To live with this pain. Always there, always absent.
A dull ache and a hot dry lonesome tear.
There is healing, in the stirring waters
You were there; not there.
He's taken in this orphan, rocked me to sleep, soothed my soul
Yet you, So broken, so sad. Your choice
And I pour out my vial
Salty tears from the bottom of this broken cup.
© Jena Rutan 2015. All rights reserved.
Scripture references are from the NASB.
