I wrote this a couple of years ago. I've only shown it to a handful of people, and so far nobody's really asked me what it's about. Perhaps you all will know...

Once whole and fulfilling it's purpose,
It now lies in pieces on the floor.
Can it ever be restored?

Jagged, pointed shards of glass
Only draw blood from any who draw too close.
Can it ever be restored?

Images once seen together and whole
Now fragmented and incomplete.
Can it ever be restored?

It's lost its purpose, now no good
Except to sweep up and throw out.
Can it ever be restored?

My life, shattered and broken,
Like the mirror no longer able to do it's job.
Can it ever be restored?

I know I could place several meanings but for me what I see as shattered in this poem is trust. But I would like to ask you - Overcomer - what is the meaning beneith the words of this nicely written poem.

It's more a bout just feeling broken. Like "damaged goods." And I feel like I only hurt the people i get close to. My ex-fiancée used to always tell me I had a wall up that she couldn't get through. I thought I was open with her and everything but apparently not. I guess I am guarded, trying not to let people too close because I don't want them to be pained by my own brokenness.
And there are time when I wonder if healing is possible. I know in my head it is, but at times don't believe it in my heart. I know that, like the mirror, I need to be put back together, but can all the broken pieces really be remade to be what it once was? Coukd it even be remade into something better? Again, I know it can, but sometimes have a hard time believing it.

Overcome - Feelings of Brokenness

Shattering glass falling, smashing to the floor
Dispersing my reflection which now lies broken
Jagged shaped shards each a slicing splinter of
Fear lying across anger and guilt, built to shame me

Peering into the brokenness thrown across the ground
What else is there to see but pieces of me? Eye detached
Nose turned edgewise. No mouth or ear to be found.
Lips missing how do I cry? Ears lost will I hear loves call?

Then there’s the touch of others who know of this loss
Helping each other to look up from their shattered reflections
We are not the sum-total of the irregular pieces strewn
No my good friend we are men looking back over broken histories.

Both poems spoke deeply to me. I have recently found a picture of myself before the abuse started and realize that I do not know who that little boy is. I feel damaged and find ways to avoid intimacy daily. It is a tough road and am not always sure that i can piece the "mirror" back together. I continue trying. Thanks for your inspiration.

I know what you mean! I recently went through some old year books and found some othe pics of me from when I was younger. It was depressing. It was like I recognized the boy in the pictures, but he was as distant a memory to me as all thiugh who'd been in those classes with me. And there was the smile. Not the fake, forced smile. But a real 10-year-old happy and care-free smile. I don't really know that kid anymore. But the later pics are all too familiar. When the smiles faded and I just looked exhausted. Wow it's nice to not feel so alone with these experiences

even the oldest picture of me @ maybe 1 1/2 shows signs i was being abused even then. i remember the day it was taken.

The good thing about this is the mirror of ones life can be repaired with a bright future ahead.


James