This Broken Heart

I stand at the crossroads, my best days long passed,

Foul mist shrouds my horizon, my destiny... lost.

My mind ponders countless paths through an aimless malaise,

Collecting scattered pieces of once cherished dreams.

I still see their tearful faces, fading in the dark,

Pressed against the foggy glass as their mother drove away.

I cry out at that memory, but the nightmare never leaves,

One among countless others haunting my dwindling days.

If only I could hold them, tell my girls I still love them,

But that door’s long closed, with locks barring my way.

I doubt I’ll ever understand what finally drove them from my hands.

I trust God to work in this, and yet I can hardly live this way.

What was, was. I can’t change it.

What is, is. I will engage it.

What will be, will be.

God sustains it.

What was, was. I can’t change it.

What is, is. I will engage it.

What will be, will be.

God sustains it.

But my broken heart ...

Oh, this broken heart ...

God works without and within my life, yet I am just a man.

I know I make mistakes. I know He understands.

But others confront me with each fault and hold them ever high.

Hounded with such burdens, I don’t know why I even try.

It’s so easy to pile blame on oneself when the pain never goes away.

It’s so easy to feel sorry for yourself when you can’t tell night from day.

Grief bares its wounds like a shield, fearing to risk love once again.

Yet when truth stares you in the face, one must die, or give in.

What was, was. I can’t change it.

What is, is. I will engage it.

What will be, will be.

God sustains it.

What was, was. I can’t change it.

What is, is. I will engage it.

What will be, will be.

God sustains it.

But my broken heart ...

Oh, this broken heart ...

What will be... will be...