Sam & I AM

There were prayers she never said,
just puffy eyes and sleepless nights.
She held her breath and bowed her head,
a rebel's plea to help her fight.

No spotlight, stage, or saving grace,
her mask gave out, she met the ground.
With trembling hands and tear-streaked face,
she broke without a single sound.

Most days she doesn’t know who she is,
without the ache she gave a name.
She calls it resilience, this wound of hers,
but some days, strength just looks like shame.

Her faith doesn’t shout or beg for light,
it doesn’t boast, preach or pose.
It sits with her in the dead of night,
and stays until the silence goes.

And when her grip slips off the edge,
when all her strength is dead and gone.
She finds Him steady on the ledge,
the only one still holding on.

We think that faith should burn like fire,
a blaze, a storm, a fearless roar.
But sometimes faith is just desire,
to crawl through fear and ask for more.

So, we do it scared,
we don’t wait till the fear is gone.
We shake, we cry, we still choose to love,
and somehow that’s how the battles’ won.

Some say that fear and faith can’t mix,
but it’s in fear that grace comes near.
It’s doing the hard thing while still afraid,
that proves God’s strength draws us here.

So here I stand, bruised with doubt,
like one wrong move might cast me out.
Like His grace is something I could lose,
but maybe that’s the lie I choose.

Because maybe faith is not so bold,
not clean, not calm, not polished gold.
Maybe faith is wild and sore,
like blooded knuckles, a broken roar.

I’m not the proof they’re hoping for,
no spotless past, or delicate bindings.
Just scars and mercy, nothing more,
You left 99, for the 1 worth finding.

Not perfect, poised, or wrapped in lace,
just holding on in a storm uncensored.
Praying to God, “don’t let me go,”
as I embrace His truth with a faith unfiltered.