Jagged pieces.

Broken, like glass that’s fallen, that's what I am
into pieces, a thousand fragments, broken by
every shattered dream and every time I fail,
every word of anger, each time hate prevails.

You are a broken glass. You fell, failed, and was scattered into many pieces. You try to carefully tread into the way, but still you continue to be wounded. You are smashed beyond repair.

And nobody uses a broken glass like you. A broken glass is kept away and put to trash; nobody will have the audacity to pick you up. You are a broken glass; you will be dispatched, because you are useless.

Or are you?

You continue to resist being touched, because you are afraid of baring to others how broken you are. Anyone who touches you gets pricked; therefore, you are sure to harm others. Instead of causing others to bleed, you choose to bleed alone.

This is why you try your best to cover up this brokenness -- by putting on a classy robe that hides it. This robe distracts you and others from looking within. It gives you the idea that you are invincible. Everything seems well and easy, and you hope this strategy works.

Or does it?

Too often I’ve run away, and too often I’ve hid my face;
too seldom, I’ve sought your boundless embrace.

This robe is the cloak of your busyness, your distractions -- your excessive working, your running to and fro, your gadgets and technological whatnots, your endless parties, your nonsensical entertainment and your shallow friends.

You are so afraid of silence, for in silence, another Voice becomes audible... This Voice, no matter how soothing, is also terrifying; It reminds you of the emptiness you feel. And so for you not to be reminded of that brokenness, you keep drowning the silence by constantly listening to "music". This music pleases the ears but not the heart, and you know it, but you keep listening anyway... You try to to hush down the Voice that is heard only "when you shut down the world's volume."

...but you know deep inside, at the end of the day, that you will have to remove this robe. Sooner or later, you will have to face the truth.

Then all your brokenness will be revealed again. This is why you are afraid to take off the robe.

What is a way out of this mess? How do you heal your brokenness?

You don't.

At least for now.

And though glass can cut like nails,
still You pick up these jagged pieces
though they wound You with pain and pride.
You soothe them beneath Your fingers
and comfort this broken child.

If you try so hard to heal yourself, you will have tried in vain. You will seek refuge to the world...but the world can only do so much to heal you. The world in all its vainglories cannot heal you.

But there is Someone who can. He is the hand that picks you up in spite of your brokenness. This Hand is not afraid to touch a broken glass like you. In fact, He will lovingly and willingly do so. He knows that you are prickly and painful to touch, yet He carries you anyway.

In the process, His hand gets pricked, because you are stubborn and you keep resisting His embrace. You continuously pierce Him while struggling to run away from His presence. He holds you tighter to His bosom and you resist it, and you make Him bleed... but all the more He holds on to you dearly.

The world continuously makes His heart and hand bleed, for man's persistent resistance to Him makes Him bleed like hell. There is bloodshed in the heart of God.

But this blood is the only way to heal the world. God's pain became mankind's gain.

How odd and ironic is it?

And he won't let you go, no matter how much you hurt Him.

There is no way you can heal yourself. Because there is only one person who can heal you, one Hand who can pick you up.

So I’ll offer these broken pieces
each day I’ll bring them where You reside
and rest there, safe in Your presence
forever, Your broken child.
Your broken, beloved child.

Because you need to be broken in order to be shared.