My Lord, I am battered, my spirit is bruised,
my weary heart shattered, my energy used.
Your child is stuck struggling to manage her grief;
so desperate for love and some sense of relief.
No matter the number of tears these eyes cry,
more press in each year that I cannot deny.
Believing Your heart breaks in pieces like mine
to see so much pain multiply like a vine.
Though the state of my soul is forever intact –
in You I’m made whole, the result of our pact –
I need some comfort for the sorrow I shoulder,
the fallout I feel from the battles I soldier.
Weep with me, O Lord, and together we’ll mourn
the sins of this world; praising God You were born.