© 2010, Joan Burch

We all are broken.

The brokenness locks us up inside.

The curtains are drawn. So no arrow does fly.


The pieces remain, scattered on the floor.

We pick them up and put them away.

Someday we'll come back to this place, but not today.


Broken promises. Broken words.

Broken trust, it does occur.

The statue's back on the mantel again.

You can't even notice the repair, but it's there.


Broken Windows. Broken Doors.

Broken Feelings, lying on the floor.

Broken by a thing not chosen, oh the pain.

Underneath the pain, the spirit remains

and it can soar again.


Now, it's Broken.