The hardest part is not the climb,
Nor storms that blur the edge of time,
Not battles lost or dreams that stall—
It’s doubting if you’re you at all.
It’s not the doors that close too fast,
Or shadows echoing the past,
But standing up when no one’s near,
And fighting through the voice of fear.
It’s waking up with weighted eyes,
Still chasing suns through cloudy skies,
And asking if your spark remains
Within the ashes of your pains.
For all the world could shout your name,
Could light your path or praise your flame,
Yet none of that will truly start
Until you trust your quiet heart.
So when the mirror seems untrue,
And every step feels lost, not new—
Know this: the fire’s inside, not shelved.
The hardest part is you—
Believing in yourself.
Thank-you for reading.
Remember there are many paths back to God.
Follow your own path,
Brenda Marie
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