Broken Calls
Broken Calls
It comes from out of nowhere, it comes without a warning.
Yesterday I’m doing just fine now it feels like I’m in mourning.
It’s like it hovers over me then pretty soon it’s falling.
I can’t pretend I’m not at home when I hear broken calling.
With the understanding of a little boy, my imagination running wild.
The first time I met broken, I was still a child.
Drying dishes in the kitchen, with my mother standing by.
I was only eight years old and I began to cry.
Did it start inside my body? I still cannot explain.
How sadness overwhelmed me with a childs heart and brain.
I still can see her caring eyes and hear my mothers voice.
Asking why I’m crying, I said I have no choice.
Many years behind me now, miles walked and some I crawled.
It seems to me I’ve been there each time that broken called.
Many times down on my knees. Broken standing at my door.
I begged God for mercy don’t let broken call no more!
Then on a Sunday morning drive, or on a picnic in a park.
The sun outside is shining bright but within me it grows dark.
Like standing on a hillside as summer turns to fall.
I cannot turn or run away when I hear broken call.
Somehow learning through the years it’s not enough to face it.
A part of me, the heart of me has learned now to embrace it.
So if broken somehow makes its way and you can’t find your smile.
Call and I’ll come running, to sit with broken for awhile.
It’s like someone I’ve known for years or a memory by which I’m haunted.
Like an echo from a mountain top or like the friend I never wanted.
So if you go where broken lives or your heart is brokens home.
I’m never really far away. And you’re never all alone
Edwin C Hofert
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