The Shield of Grace 

I am but a seed, sprouting in a world that seeks to devour.  

Nightly creatures surround me, cloaked in deceit,  

Their whispers, snares—luring with false promises of belonging.  

Disguised in sheep’s clothing,  

They drink deep from the well of my joy,  

Siphoning the goodness within me,  

Wearing masks of virtue,  

Ordaining themselves in false righteousness.  

Yet my soul aches, burdened by the weight of their lies,  

Weary from the relentless press of deception,  

Like thorns choking the tender vine of faith.  

But I am covered,  

By the blood of the Lamb,  

The Passover sacrifice,  

His righteousness a fortress around me,  

The shield of His grace my protection.  

In Him, I find refuge and strength,  

The Rock of my salvation,  

A strong tower I can run to and be safe.  

Though the enemy rages,  

I am more than a conqueror,  

For through Christ, I rise.  

~Written by K.inthia

In the shadows of the storm 

As I gaze at this version of me,  

A broken vessel, lost at sea.  

Defiled, devoid of love’s warm embrace,  

Hollowed out in this empty space.  

Wounds that ache and refuse to heal,  

A wildfire where despair is real,  

Consuming each cherished memory,  

Leaving behind a ghost of me.  

A fear that lingers, knows no end,  

A fleeting shadow, a weary friend.  

Life feels unworthy, a bitter jest,  

A withered bloom, denied its rest.  

Yet here I stand, a shattered vase,  

Clinging to hope in this dark place—  

An endless stream that slips away,  

Help me! Please, God, I pray!  

My silent plea lost in the whispers of the wind,  

A desperate call for strength to begin.  

The pain, a tide that pulls me down,  

Sinking beneath its weight, I drown.  

But in this darkness, I still fight—  

A flicker of a distant light.  

Perhaps a spark, a fragile thread,  

To pull me back from this abyss, dead.  

The storm inside rages on, unkind,  

Yet in its fury, I seek to find  

A strength unknown, a quiet flame  

That rises from the deepest shame.  

For in the cracks, the light may leak,  

In brokenness, we’re often made meek,  

But even weakness carries might,  

When clung to in the darkest night.  

So I stand, though weary, bruised,  

A soul in turmoil, yet still used.  

And though the road is hard and long,  

I find in silence, a rising song.  

I am more than sorrow, more than pain—  

I’ll rebuild from ash, from loss, from rain.

~Written by K.inthia