Echoes of Grace

  I carry a world inside my skin, A storm that no one sees begin. The lightning strikes, the thunder rolls, But silence wraps around my soul. They see the surface, bright and clear, A mask of strength, no hint of fear. Yet underneath, the battles rage, An untold war inside my cage. My mind a race, too fast, too slow, Where focus comes and then lets go. I chase the moments, try to stay, But thoughts slip through, they run away. My body feels like shifting sand, Some days I stumble just to stand. The pain, the fog, they take their toll, Yet still I fight to stay whole. For though you cannot see the fight, I bear the scars of endless night. And though my path is steep and long, I’m still here, trying to stay strong.

 We are the daughters of the witches you couldn’t burn, From fires where shadows twisted, and darkness learned That truth is a flame you cannot snuff, A light in the wild, fierce, and tough. From ancient mouths that whispered spells, From tongues cut silent in cold, dark cells, We rose with the smoke through the midnight air, Unseen, unheard, but always there. We are the daughters who carry their names, Who dance on the ashes of long-quenched flames. Our bodies, a testament to battles long fought, Our lives, the magic that history sought. We know what it means to be feared for our grace, To walk through the world, always out of place, To bend the lines of what’s wrong or right, To claim the dark and call it light. They hunted us then, with fire and steel, Afraid of the strength they could not conceal. But we’ve learned from their fear, turned it to power— Bloomed in the night like a moon-kissed flower. We are the daughters who bend, but don’t break, The voices of those who could no...

  Dedicated to Evalynn, my dear friend. May God bless your journey. In the stillness of a quiet heart, A gentle spark begins to grow, A light that’s new, yet ancient, too, Like dawn breaking through shadowed snow. You’ve known the change of body, soul, The shift from dark to colors true, But now a deeper call resounds— A whisper from the One who knew Your name before the stars were born, Your path before your steps began. Now faith, like wings, unfolds within, Transforming you as only Love can. A journey bright with sacred grace, A tender hand that lifts you high. Your spirit blooms in radiant hues— A garden kissed by heaven’s sky. For you are seen, beloved, whole, As God’s own child, embraced, restored. This walk of faith, a dance of joy, Where hope and peace are now your chord. So rise and live this gift anew, For you, a song reborn in light. In every breath, in every step, You carry love’s eternal might.

  God, in wisdom, gave us wheat, not bread, Fruit in seed, not wine in cup, A gift of raw becoming, A chance for hands to shape and souls to rise. So too, in the forge of flesh and bone, My spirit found its art, Sculpted not by ease, But by the flame of truth and fire of scars. Had I been born in perfect form, Unscarred by questions, doubts, and fears, Would I have known this strength within, This tender joy in being whole? No, I am a work unfinished, Carved by trials, smoothed by tears, In every hardship, beauty blooms— In every wound, a life is claimed. You ask if I would trade it all, The twists and turns, the ache, the strain— But in this pain, I learned to live, To break the shell, to birth the name. For living is not merely breath, But dancing on the edge of truth, To stand in light, both fierce and kind, A flame reborn from deepest roots. I do not love the price I paid— The hurt, the loss, the bitter sting— Yet neither do...

  In the quiet halls of a distant, regal court, Nehemiah stood, his posture a silent report. A cupbearer, serving with grace so imbued, Each gesture, each glance, in reverence subdued. Before him, the king, in his grandeur arrayed, Yet humble was the hand from which he was swayed. For Nehemiah held more than wine in his grip, A heart for his people, a sacred trusteeship. In the shadow of power, a servant's heart beats, Beneath robes of service, steadfastness meets. Tasks, menial to mighty, with equal care tended, Prayers whispered for those he represented. A wall broken, a city bare, A call to rebuild, a burden to bear. With cup set aside, and trowel in hand, He answered a higher, divine command. Through gates long neglected, past stones overturned, His faith, his resilience, in each trial confirmed. From serving at tables to guarding a cause, His life a testament to servitude’s laws. For the heart of a servant knows no bound walls, It hears the soft whisper when duty calls. In pal...