Poem:Proud of Me

I’ve walked through fire, quiet and slow,
With blistered feet no one would know.
I held my breath through storms and rain,
And stitched my smile around the pain.

I’ve failed in silence, wept at night,
Then rose again to find the light.
Not always strong, not always sure,
But every wound, I chose to endure.

I spoke with truth when fear said “hide,”
I stayed when all I felt was pride.
I learned to bend, but not to break,
To give myself the time I take.

I don’t need medals, gold, or fame,
No need for others to know my name.
For in the mirror now I see—
Someone who’s finally proud of me.

Thank-you for reading.

Remember there are many paths back to God.

Follow your own path,

Brenda Marie