The Beauty, the Sound

Disappointment builds like tar in the blood
Till the heart gives out, with a gurgle and thud
I remember my stomach always hurt when I was four
But I barely feel anything anymore

    There’s an island miles from shore
Pine trees bend towards the ground

The morning sun is cold/gold on the water
The beauty, the sound

What’s perfectly clear but mostly unspoken,
Is how much of this stems from how badly we’re broken

We have to hold on to the hope that forgiveness may
Yet offer its grace in our final days