In shadows deep, where whispers fade,  
Behind the walls, the women pray.  
Their dreams are bound in chains of fear,  
In lands where hope can't find its way.

A world that stifles every voice,  
Their cries of pain, without a choice.  
Beneath the veils, their stories hide,  
Silent tears they cannot show with pride.

For freedom's price is far too steep,  
A life where courage dares not speak.  
Each step they take, with cautious tread,  
In lands where even thoughts are bled.

Their wings are clipped by heavy laws,  
Yet still, they rise—despite the scars.  
With hearts of fire, unbroken will,  
Though pain runs deep, they're standing still.

In every glance, in every tear,  
Resilience grows where hate draws near.  
In the silence, strength is found—  
Women rise without a sound.

For even in the darkest night,  
They hold within a spark of light.  
No chain can hold what’s meant to soar,  
A flame that fights forevermore.

They hate us,  
Yes, they despise us,  
They copy us,  
They want to be like us,  
They can’t stand when we breathe.  

I know you are wondering who “they” might be,  
But I’ll tell you what “they” do to us:  
They have stolen and are still stealing our identity.  
They **** us, oppress us, and take our hard-earned positions.  

To them, we are just objects,  
Goods of no value.  
When they bark, they expect us to respond.  
They have caged us, taken the very little freedom we had.  
They don’t care about us.  

When will they leave us alone?

Belief:

Jesus describes three kinds of soil
Upon which we labor. Toil.

1. We disburse seed upon the edge
Of the way, the trodden verge
There no soft place to plant is found
Hungry birds peck seed from ground.

2, The second type produces shoot
Joyful! Laughing! But no root.
No soil but rock 1 inch under
The seedling dies, it's no wonder...

3. This growth's root indeed goes down
But a choking **** beside is found!
The plant is stunted, has meager shoots
No wonder! It had twisted roots!

Faith:

Now, there was a different kind of ground called Faith,
It buried seed and gave it grace.
The loam produced so much grain
The Soft soil and spirit rain!
So much fruit grew right there
that harvesting workers laborers shared!

There's a difference between belief and faith
Only the last will see God's face.
Only deep roots produce rich trees
One must dig deep to produce these!


SoulSurvivor aka
Write of Passage