O God, You Will Not Despise: Beauty in Broken Pieces, #2

By Angie Grigaliunas

As a watchman waits for morning's clear light,
so I and my soul will wait for you.
With you there is unfailing love.
With you there is full redemption.
You yourself will redeem me
from the depths.
And white light will engulf
every mountain.

Wrought of faith and doubt, fear and triumph, questions and convictions, these songs give a raw glimpse into the heart of a Christ-follower on a journey of healing, hope, and ultimate victory in Jesus.

This is Volume 2 of Beauty in Broken Pieces and contains thirty poems of varying themes. This collection sometimes utilizes gritty verbiage but contains no foul language. The volumes and poems can be read in any order.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Angie Grigaliunas
• Release date: Jun 30, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223124252

Book preview

Before the Cross

A light at the end of the tunnel;

there is always a silver lining —

yes, but do you comprehend how dark a tunnel

can be when you’re in it?

It isn’t darkness, it is blackness.

The utter absence of light, of warmth, of hope.

Hope is not merely overrated;

it is worthless;

hope cannot save you.

Nothing can save you.

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So down the forever, never-ending hallway,

run headlong, run for your life.

You will never reach the end; there is no end.

Here is where you will die.

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This is power, raw, dreadful power.

I don’t bring darkness — I am Darkness;

blinding you and therefore binding you in me,

and then feasting on your blood, your life.

All is in vain; flee or yield, I’ll kill.

For I thrive on murder; I lust for death.

And with a lie, I invented both.

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So down the forever, never-ending hallway,

run headlong, run for your life.

You will never reach the end; there is no end.

Here is where you will die.

And down the forever, never-ending hallway,

run headlong, run for your life.

Run until you see the flood of piercing daylight.

And stop and abandon all thoughts of escape.

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For the bars, thick iron bars block your way,

trap you in.

And though you see the light,

blazing just ahead,

you cannot get to it.

You cannot get to it.

I told you that here you’d die.

Can you hear me laughing?

I’ll declare my victory louder.

Absence Makes the Heart Grow Colder

Patience is not my strong suit.

I’m noticing that so clearly.

In the midst of separation, I wish and long

and ache —

and though you know your own struggling

and can relate so much,

you do not know the fullness of mine,

for you are not here to know it,

for me to tell you face-to-face when it awakens.

And it is so often my companion,

my sole acquaintance in a lonely,

unwelcoming bed.

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Claws reach into my chest and garrote my heart,

and I am so aware of the absence.

And how horribly wrong it feels.

Oh love, how much longer?

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Absence makes our hearts grow colder,

and the distance takes its toll.

And if I think about it, I’m just torturing myself,

tormenting my mind with a future that

remains too far off

for me to truly even be thinking what

I’m thinking at present.

For we’ll not be face-to-face when I awaken.

Worries are so often my companion,

and between us, the mind-/emotion-assaults

never cease.

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Blades plunge into my chest and slice through

my heart,

and I am so aware of the warfare.

And how beleaguered I can feel.

But you are not — are never — losing me.

My heart simply looks evermore to the day

when there are no more countdowns.

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Absence makes our hearts grow colder,

and it will make our bond much stronger.

I stand through hellfire with you,

and we will not emerge unscathed —

but hand-in-hand-in-hand,

we will be victorious

all the same.

Shattered Glass

(1 Corinthians 13:12; Luke 10:30-37; Hebrews 12:1)

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I can’t breathe.

But it’s been so long since I had air

that I think I’ve adapted to life without.

Or is there life without?

The atmosphere is stale, bitter,

lacking anything that resembles life.

I am weighed down by my own self,

strangulated by my own hands,

moldering by my own choices —

for I left you.

And now I am left alone.

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I can’t breathe.

Each step’s like pulling a thousand pounds,

and I just don’t have the strength

to go on.

And there’s nowhere to go,

no hope that endures,

here in this pit —

the pit of my own sick entangled self.

I craved my lusts, my lies, myself —

couldn’t bear to give any up.

I feared you’d take them all away,

and I’d be left with nothing.

And though they hurt, they’re comfortable,

for I know them;

I don’t know you.

Though you begged me to let them go,

warned me of what they’d do to me,

I searched on,

dragging all the weight

beside and behind, staggering into a gulf

I can’t escape,

only to come to see you were right —

that what is killing me...is me.

For these, I left you.

And now I am left undone.

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Undone, unraveled, incompetent.

Torn apart,