Friday, June 15, 2007

Don't leave me here.

My words aren't working, I want to write endlessly but the words aren't forming sentences,then what is coming out doesn't make sense.

I do know a few things:

1. i'm broken
2. I'm really scared I'm going to be like this the rest of my life.
3. I think this kind of sucks.

in different, but not 100% completely unrelated news...

I miss my brother.


Sully said...

AtP, your writing is beautiful and raw. Plus, unlike some selfish bloggers (*cough* MYSELF! *cough*) your words are wonderfully concise. I hope you know that you won't always feel broken; things will improve. Until then, though, know that I love you and will help you if you need it.


Kengo Biddles said...

AtP, you're not broken, just a bit battered. And Sully is right. And Marko still needs holding. He's a chubby baby.

We're blessing him in a few weeks, if you want to come, I want you there. :)

drex said...

And even if you are broken, you don't have to stay that way. Christ was broken so that the broken could be healed. And even His breaking, beyond our capacity to understand, had an end. With it, the bands of death and hell were broken. And Christ, after being broken, was made perfect.

There's a Sabbath morn at the end of every long walk through Gethsemane, Golgotha, and the tomb.

Stephalumpagus said...


iwonder said...

I don't think your broken. And if you are, then so am I.

Julie said...

Joy cometh in the morning...eventually. Hang in there, friend.

salad said...

*hugs* we need to hang out this week. let me know when you want to do it so we can make the plans. and at that time, i will give you a real hug.

Greg-o said...

Here's a song I thought of:

Broken clouds give rain
Broken soil grows grain
Broken bread feeds man for one more day
Broken storms yield light
The break of day heals night
Broken pride turns blindness into sight

Broken souls that need his mending
Broken hearts for offering
Could it be that God loves broken things

Broken chains set free
Broken swords bring peace
Broken walls make friends of you and me
To break the ranks of sin
To break the news of him
To put on Christ till his name feels broken in

Broken souls that need his mending
Broken hearts for offering
I believe that God loves broken things

And yet our broken faith
Our broken promises
Sent love to the cross
And still that broken flesh
And broken heart of his
Offers us such grace and mercy
Coveres us with love undeserving

This broken soul that cries for mending
This broken heart for offering
Im convinced that God loves broken Me
Praise his name my God loves broken things

Broken clouds give rain
Broken soil grows grain
Broken bread feeds man for one more day

And that is all!

Abelard Enigma said...

Everyone once in a while, I bookmark a blog post that touches me and has a particularly strong impact on me. One of my bookmarks is from your blog about a month or so ago titled Feeling Whole. I've been feeling a bit down the last couple of days; so, I was reading some of my bookmarked blog posts, including yours, to help lift me up. Perhaps you should go back and read what you said in Feeling Whole. Maybe it will help lift you up as it does for me.

Roz said...

Your first post of june 10th...Jesus does. Perfectly.
ps i just took the time and realized i could comment on this. rockin huh? I'm quick.

SuperGirl said...

What do you do with that?
That tingle in your scalp
That pervades your veins and your muscles
And compels you to fear the loss.
Compels you to fight the loss of a thing...
Of a person...Of a you
A you
A you that you liked.
A you that you were proud of.
A you that you wanted to keep.

But heaven does not rain with kisses,
It reins with blows.
Blows from a mighty fist,
That may be my God.
That may be your God.
That may be no God at all.

What is it all?
Is it a call?
Is it a virtue?
Is it real?
Can I feel it?
Should I need to?

What I need to do is work.
Work and produce.
Be of some use to a good.
A good that I believe in.
And make it a good good.

But will it last
Or will it pass before my eyes,
Into the skies,
Clutched in the shameful talons of an egret
Shame and regret.
Will I let them...
Will I let them...
Will I let myself
Put it on a shelf
And forget it,
And be settled with
A lesser good.
A false good,
Whose falsehoods are of my own design.

I haven't the time to deceive the truth.
I'm losing my youth.
If ever I had it at all.
So wallow in this a little while longer
But then get up ,
And be stronger than before.
Don't monger with the horde of dying lives.
Breathe in a deep breath
And exhale.