Who's Broken

With eyes of grey, no longer whole

The cross you bare… to see no more

That’s what I see as I look on

And so I start to write this song

Your body bent to crippled chair

Up at the world you’re forced to stare

And watch from sidelines day to day

So fall the verses on my page

Your deafened ears, and muted voice

Reveal to me: you have no choice

But sit in isolation’s chair

The melody now comes to bare

Your face not as the other’s are

Left wanting redress from the scars

Alone now more than any else

The chorus forms so as to tell

Your mind from birth was incomplete

Cold institutions your retreat

Shunned by the world nigh unto death

The final touches do attest

Then pausing to review my prose

Can’t help but think and want to know

Why has God left you broken such

And not revealed the Healer’s touch

Quick fall my pages into flame

As wanton souls in vision’s frame

Appear before my eyes of clay

That seeing, see a different way

Revealing that I have been wrong

And beckons, “write a different song”

A song that leaves me void of pride

As questions make me look inside…

Though in the dark the blind must be

They cannot judge what they can’t see

And I have sorrowed much thereby

Which one of us is broken?

And though the lame do not stand tall

They do not trample one and all

And I have sorrowed much thereby

Which one of us is broken?