bRoKeN pIeCeS

I just hope people see that if God can do something beautiful with my broken
pieces, then God truly has a plan for each and every one of us.—Nick Vujicic

the sleep that yields
to a hunger
for civil liberties
that fallen lids
cannot approximate
—broken dreams

the bread that steals
the harbinger
of trivialities
when famished kids
for vittles congregate
—broken means

the rose that feels
how men've wronged her
when grim realities
that love forbids
pluck her, dispassionate
—broken screams

wound never heals
tho’ buds, when younger,
a trail for dancing bees,
a bridge amidst
their buzz was battlement
—broken streams

painful appeals
where love, once stronger,
succumbs to vagaries
whose swords insist
they crave no settlement
—broken teams

 the breath that heals,
whose dance no longer
adorns the stage with ease,
by silence kissed—
life's worst predicament
—broken scenes

these broken seals,
whose hands can conquer?
whose passions can appease?
the poet's twist—
man's only increment
—broken reams

© Copyright 2020 March 03
by Clyve A. Bowen♫