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A Poem: The Holy Broken

Forget the mask.
Forget the forehead set.
Forget the stiff upper lip.

Let yourself tremble,
shake like the windblown leaf,
speak your truth.

Though it might be to admit
failure,
fear or pain.

Life has its vicissitudes
and we can sometimes start to roll
like a stone gathering speed,

or may feel
the pounding of waves
as driftwood afloat on the sea.

But forget the mask,
and the face set like flint,
the lips that do not move.

Cast off shame.
For the tears that fall
are made to cleanse.

The crutch lent on
to stand,
is to aid rehabilitation.

And the heart that breaks open
reflects the naked eye’s
silent plea,

that there be no incongruence
between action
and speech.

Yes, forget the mask.
And the poker set face,
the mouth sewn tightly shut.

Come out of hiding,
for the world to see
your naked face.

The world needs us each,
the strong and the often weak,
the holy broken people.

In community.

Ana Lisa de Jong
Living Tree Poetry
August 2019

8 thoughts on “A Poem: The Holy Broken”

  2. Yesterday I watched a service from Fuller Theological seminary, Pasadnea, where the president wept as he shared some of his own story of a time of brokeness. It was truly a holy moment and one that gave me hope to see this leader unafraid to be vulerable. You know I love your holy words. This time it’s no different. Thank you.

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