Forsaken But Not Fallen Poem by Emmanuel Vallie

I don't know if it was pity or grace
That lifted me from all that was forsaken—
Taken.
For granted.

Blessed be the work of Your hands—
But how does the hand move,
When the mind is a maze?
Like a sheep without a shepherd,
A house without a head,
A man without God.

They packed their bags,
Tearing ties that peeled away flesh.
They left with the sunset—
For a son that was never set.

And yet it was allowed—
By a soul held captive,
A weary body, a wearier mind,
Torn apart by its own mistakes.