I can’t help but wonder
How all the little pieces come together
I think back to when my memory begins
I had broken pieces of a childhood
Severed chords of my adolescent years
And prison to pay for my actions when I was an adult
I can’t help but wonder
I sit here in this church sitting beside the one I love
The reflection leaves me weary and sad
But my reflection ends when I look at what I have now
How can all the broken pieces of my life
Form together to make something whole?
I can’t help but wonder
Somebody asks me a question
“Is God good?”
ZinnWrites 