I travel along the broken road,
not the one from cheesy
country love songs,
where I’ve found the one
meant for my vagabond soul.

This road is full
of potential detours,
ragged bumps,
and wasted years,
a road unfit for redemption.

“God, why me now?!”
I scream to the heavens,
while streaks of fading sunlight,
serene and perfect,
outline the rim of the pothole I just hit.

I wonder what we look like,
along this road unsafe
for travel and soul-searching
to our divine creator
watching us from above?

Are we merely ants?
Bugs to be squashed
for sick, twisted means?
What does The Great I AM
think of me even now?

Tears roll down my cheek
at the very thought of either/or.
Loved and cherished,
or hated and despised.
I cannot say.

But the small voice
ringing in my ear
ready to whisper lullabies,
hum sweet melodies,
tells me to carry on.

I can only pray for miracles,
if miracles do exist.
Maybe fix my broken tire,
or perhaps the crater-sized hole
in my lonely heart.

Editor: Shannon Hensley