The Valley of the Shattered Souls of Men

I walked through the valley of the shattered souls of men
And realized that I once was one of them
They cried out for mercy, cried out for healings
Moaned in agony and screamed about their feelings
They sat in groups of blame to pass along the pain
And clothed themselves in agony, garments heavy with shame
They entertained depression had lunch with self-hate
Shared secrets with Sir Criticism and all of his dear mates
They wallowed in self-pity, denied themselves victory
Claimed they sought deliverance yet refused to be free
The irony of the valley lies in its midst
A river flowing freely down the center of it
And all these desperate souls camped along its shore
Never understanding what it was even for
Like the pool of Siloam, healing ran within the stream
The blood of Christ flowing freely, seeking to redeem
I walked through the valley of the shattered souls of men
And realized the message I had to get to them
Healing comes in ways most refuse to see
Gentle, peaceful streams that pass by quietly.