‎Fractured,
‎Yet emerging  insurmountable.
‎A flower bud of a lady I was
‎ Too sensitive for this world's disguise.
‎
‎ The Living Scriptures whisper wisdom:
"Be serpent-wise, yet dove-gentle too"
‎An emotional wreck,
My heart fragile and fluttering.
‎
‎
‎I dragged myself through the mire, Fueled my disaster-
With fear and doubt
My words, a jumbled mess
‎ My confidence a fleeting rout.
‎
‎ But now, without losing my true self
‎I face the world-
‎Not with a mask
‎ But with the skin of a true soldier

‎ The warrior silenced, chained
‎Breaks out of hibernation
‎Wild, unshackled, wholly me
‎Taking my stand - fearless.
‎

Sit, process.
Place your hand on your chin,  
let the weight of thought settle.  
Digest.  
Sketch the craft  
your heart desires.  

Now I see why  
it is engraved—  
Know yourself.
Shape yourself.  
Only then should love find you,  
not to complete you,  
but to complement the wholeness  
you’ve become.  

I look at him,  
then back at myself—  
we are two worlds apart.  
The small connections between us  
try to whisper,  
but my identity shouts back.  

I mistook admiration for love.  
I mistook yearning for destiny.  
I wanted to be seen,  
so I let myself drown  
in a love that wasn’t real.  

But now, I must sift myself,  
slowly, painfully, deliberately—  
pulling away in fragments,  
escaping his grip,  
even as guilt grips me back.  

I fear breaking him,  
but I am breaking myself.  
And so, I ask—  
Lord, permit me to mold  
what remains of me.

Time fades.  
Time vanishes—  
silent as mist in morning light.  
But time returns,  
heavy, suffocating—  
a phantom gripping my throat.  

Love, do you hear me?  
Love, do you see me?  
Cradle me, break these chains!  
This hatred grips me still,  
tight as iron, cold as night.  
Fold me into your arms—  
don’t let me drown in silence.  

Give my voice a reckoning,  
Rip open the silence,  
Gather my shattered soul,  
Mend me with mercy  
before I disappear.  

Tear these walls apart,  
Love me into freedom.  
Unravel me with peace,  
Soulish me to life—  
before it’s too late.

Grant thee a voice to write,  
A blueprint to imprint.  

Bestow thee a script,  
To inscribe with wisdom’s grip.  

Permit thee a spark,  
To blaze through the dark.  

Inspire thee with grace,  
To shine in time and space.

Life like a rose,
as petals dry,
falling off,
drip by drip.

Heart cracking,
Shattering like a delicate ceramic
Heart aching
Withdrawing with joyous assertion


As commanded,
slowly dying—
to self,
to life,
empty,
void,
to be filled,
to be much alive in Him

Silent is the process
But certain is the outcome
A fruitful vine in Him

Abba
"Abba Father", we cry—
Not by right, but by mercy,  
Unworthy, yet chosen,  
Bound by love unbreakable.  

What love is this?  
Fierce, relentless, divine—  
That Heaven would surrender  
Its Son for the lost.  

Jesus!
The Lamb, the Warrior, the King—  
Crushed, yet conquering,  
Pierced, yet prevailing,  
Until the cry of victory thundered:  
"It is finished!"

Now liberated, we rise unshaken,  
Fearless before the accuser,  
Facing darkness with fire in our eyes—  
For we war from a victory won!  
Forever, we stand in His name.