Maybe the limbs of a broken tree will heal themselves in time
Or maybe the limbs from that broken tree will petrify......
Hard as stone.
As I peel back the layers I find things I never knew were there
And as I listen to my prayers I hear myself confused and scared.
This broken tree feels like it's part of me somehow controlling
My destiny.
Has the seed of a broken promise decided what I will be?
And I, left to myself can only hope to survive.
And I, left to myself can only slowly die.
How long will I drift? would I not know the difference?
Have I weathered so long that I've been shaped by this ocean?
Will the legacy live on in me? like father, like son?
I don't believe that what I am is determined by what
Precedes me.
And now I have to realize that the past is not my future
And in Christ I'm a brand new creature.
And I, left to myself can only hope to survive.
And I, left to myself can only slowly die.
But given grace I know I can,
Given grace I can learn to forgive.
In the face of all of this.
Given grace I can truly live.