Place My Tears in Your Jar, Again

Where do old friendships

Go to die?

Who struck that first mortal wound?

Did it happen with one glancing blow,

Or was it the small things that flow

From decades of learning

Where to make that single pin prick;

And relentlessly doing it again and again

Until one sees it is time to pick


And leave off

And never return.

Oh there was laughter enough.

Why else would one stay

And endure knowing

You were really cat’s play?

That the secrets shared

Were held in scorn.

That true tenderness

Would never be stored.

That the idea of sisterhood

Was all in your head.

That this nauseous feeling

Has replaced kinship instead.

That your own defects

Helped the bridge of friendship collapse.

So you search your own soul

For its flaws and it’s cracks.

And you find they are

Themselves large, they run deep.

And you question whether

You ever could keep

Love, from the taint

Of the world’s bitter heap.

So you cry out to the Lord,

And you seek and you seek

That merciful place of His heart

Crowned in thorns.

And you see just how much

He himself has in love borne.

So the clutch in your throat

Begins to relax,

And the beat of your heart

Starts to slow, and the cracks

Of your brokenness, slowly do mend

By His Spirit and grace.

And you look in the mirror

And finally you face

That you are not perfect.

But you see in your eye

A reflection of Him,

And the hope that won’t die.

Photo by Mareefe on

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