The Wounded Heart (poetry)

By: JANA GREENE

When I find myself in too much pain,
and the world is caving in;
when my heart is truly shattered,
and I don’t think I’ll smile again,
I shake my fists at God a while,
have my ravings and my rants.
He listens to my agony,
my “I WON’T”s and “I CANT’S.”
I forget that Source knows firsthand
because He wrapped himself in skin,
and His heart was once a gaping wound
just like mine has been.
When I’m hemorrhaging emotion,
His heart is bleeding right along,
when I can hear only chaos,
His comfort soothes me like a song.
Oh Creator of this worn heart,
Source of all that’s pure true,
please let my pain have purpose.
Let it make me more like You.