Poem: Spiritual Warrior

I don’t wear armor —
mine is a soul forged in silence,
hardened by healing,
softened by love.

I don’t carry swords —
I carry truth in my voice,
and the light in my eyes
cuts deeper than steel.

I’ve walked through fire,
not to burn —
but to remember
that I am made of it.

I’ve battled doubt with prayer,
fear with breath,
shadows with stillness.
My victories are invisible,
but they echo in every step I take.

I kneel, not in surrender,
but in reverence —
for the strength that flows
from something far beyond me
and yet, somehow, within me.

I am not loud.
I am not loud.
But storms pause when I pass.
Not because I command them —
but because I became one,
and then chose peace.

So call me warrior,
not for what I fight,
but for what I protect:
the sacred,
the unseen,
the spark in every broken thing
that still dares to rise.

Thank-you for reading.

Remember there are many paths back to God.

Follow your own path,

Brenda Marie