I had a broken wing and couldn’t fly.
My spirit was so wounded I didn’t want to try.
But helplessly I fluttered trying to take flight.
If I couldn’t fly again, I knew I’d lose the fight.
Then someone came along who said He’d be my friend.
He was the great healer called the "Son of Man."
He told me if I’d trust in Him, He could make my fly;
And fix my broken wing, so I would never die.
I asked the cost I had to pay for doing this for me;
He said there is no price for grace, it was given free.
Because of His great mercy, He was called a "King,"
And only came to save me, and fix my broken wing.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Oct 2012
About this poem:Written during a difficult time in my life. The analogy is one I felt very appropo.