thankful

you could have allowed me

to remain

enslaved to my false hopes

of idealism.

it would have been easy

to watch me carry on

for another four years,

twinkle-tapping in sparkly

fairytales that were

never meant to be.

but you are faithful and merciful,

a gracious father

who longs to give of your goodness

and so you broke me.

the well manicured walls 

of self-protection

came tumbling down

while my soul drown

in pools of salty tears.

rising up were the jewels

of contrition and brokenness

so that i can stand

in the hope of your love.