The Shards of My Shame
- Kevin McStay
- 3 days ago
- 2 min read
A spoken-word journey through brokenness, guilt, and the quiet ache of woundedness — yet it ultimately reveals the tender, restorative love of God.
The shards of my shame,
lay scattered and shattered,
As I painfully sought,
To piece together all that mattered.
Those shards of my shame,
The dregs of my dross,
Sporadic and strewn,
I kept account of my loss.
I felt for those shards,
As I groped on the ground,
The needles of guilt,
In a room with no sound.
A room with no sound,
No noise not a pin,
Not a squeak nor a murmur,
But a deafening din.
I felt for the frags,
That dug deep in the dark,
Ragged and jagged,
As they crafted each mark.
My fingers they reached,
Through the carpet of pain,
Blind to the trauma,
I reached, again and again.
Then I heard the Shardshaper,
Give those pieces to me!
Those pieces are mine,
I take splinters for free.
I'm an expert on frags,
slivers, slices and shreds.
I'm a dab hand at wounds,
reconstruction’s soul meds.
I showed him my hands,
And he filled up with tears,
As he palpated my hurts,
grown deep through the years.
He looked and he loved,
As He lavished on cream,
The lacerations were deep,
But the extent, it was seen.
He lifted out loss,
pain, heartache and guilt,
Debrided the wounds,
of this scar ridden quilt.
The surgical precision,
cut down to the core,
From incision to root,
He explored there was more.
He stitched and he probed,
and he probed and he hitched,
As he repaired and restored,
with His finest cross stitch.
He poured oil on my hands,
On the wounds newly woven,
The Shepherd Shardshaper,
Now soothed the corrosion.
This oil of anointing,
It never ran dry,
As the ocean of emotion,
Was tamed from on high.
The wounds became scars,
And in time they would wane,
As The Shepherd He held me,
to comfort the pain.
Those broken soul pieces,
Once shards of my shame,
Now the pearls of redemption,
Through His beautiful Name.
I’ve felt His sure promise,
That by His wounds I am healed,
The Shepherd Shardshaper,
His glory revealed.
You took up my pain,
My suffering you bore,
Your life nailed to the Cross,
Your plan to the fore.
Pierced for transgressions,
For my iniquity crushed,
Punishment to peace,
Through the torturers truss.
And there hangs my hope,
This crucified man,
Body broken for me,
Denies death’s final plan.
Those shards of my shame,
Once scattered and shattered,
Now transformed by His love,
As my heart’s been regathered.
Those shards of my shame,
Once the dregs of my dross,
Now trophies of glory,
By His work at the Cross.
As I’ve been transformed by His love,
Yes, my heart’s been regathered,
But It’s been worth it with Him,
To piece together all that’s mattered.
Kevin McStay
December 2025
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