Cry of the broken

Your timing, O God, is flawless, they say, Mercy spills from Your eternal edge. I cling to that truth, yearning for solace, Yet it slips as I bleed through the years. Woes swarm like static, sharp with insult, Words that cut, leaving a thousand wounds. Will You, my Maker, cradle me close, When tears and fragments are all I am? If pain is a teacher, why is wisdom stalled? Tears fall freely, but insight won’t rise. I surrender—heart, mind, my tangled mess— Yet fear grips tight, numbing my bones. Your spring of life should mend my soul, But dread chokes me, a fist at my throat. Poverty pins me to cold concrete floors, Your blessings distant, just out of reach. Why speak of heights my dim eyes can’t see, Of glow beyond the grave’s heavy veil? I need bread now, not tales of endless joy. Hunger drowns whispers of paradise unseen. You warn of fires below, yet I’m already scorched, Melting in trials You’ve allowed to unfold. This whirl of letdowns, this haze of scorn. Where I am lost to another world to mourn. You promised a land of milk and peace, Where grace alone runs deep and free. But I stand empty, hollowed by grief, grief my only weight ,sinking deeper. Your silence erodes my faltering faith, Your waiting, a detour some devils plan If Your mercy is real, God, find me now— Before that path lead me to the murky pit.