In darkness, I lean on a quiet trust,
A hand unseen but steady in the night,
My trembling heart steadied by dust and rust,
I breathe in ruin, then exhale soft light.
Each wound a lesson, sharpened by His grace,
A map to places where I dare not tread,
Yet still I walk, my fears in tender lace,
The thorns soft bloom where once they bled me red.
What is despair but half a prayer in bloom?
Each shattered thing a prelude to repair.
I match the storm with peace, a quiet room,
God’s name the breath I carry through the air.
With trust, calamity turns into wings,
Serenity in all the breaking brings.