"my girl america's crying when
she's lying on her bed at night.
i can see that she's screaming when
she's dreaming for her freedom."
- mat kearney, girl america
i remember b r o k e n dreams:
of blood and broken promises filled with empty words.
and inside these dreams i remember the bleeding girl,
who wore her heart so delicately on her sleeve(s).
desperate, she cried out for hope and rest—for someone
to take her away from this lost world of numb pain.
the bile rose in the back of her throat as a finger slid
down to bring comfort to an aching heart.
(from her wretched ashes, she bore white wings,
wrestling to reach free(dom) from the mud and mire
that held her down, filling her with no purpose.)
in whispers, her Savior told her of His love for her:
"rise, my daughter, beautiful as the mountains
and tears that could fill an brilliant blue ocean.
for i, dying, marked you with my red blood.
i desperately long to keep you in my sight.
i formed you delicately in your mother's womb,
and i cried from pure joy when you took
your first breath because you are my daughter:
beautiful and brilliant, loved so dearly, and
so precious in my sight. i took your blood
in my hands and wept for the scars you drew
across your wrists, forearms, thighs, and ankles."
and i wept.
for there are no more b r o k e n dreams.
there is redemption from a life filled with blood.
scars healed to become white, purple, and pink
across wretched skin. my heart burst for love
for You as You took my shame and died for me.
author's note: inspired by verses like: psalm 40:2, 73:26, 139:9, 13. there is Hope, and Healing. please, don't give up, for there is One who loves you more than you know.