Poetry & Spoken Word

Poetry and spoken word exploring love, healing, faith, identity, and the human journey through reflective and spiritually grounded writing.

  •   Reflection

A Glimmer

In a world filled with heavy news and unseen burdens, A Glimmer reflects on the quiet weight many carry and the hope that still lives within us.

Photo by lyrical ethereal

Many disasters strike.
Our hearts grow heavy.
The winds of life press against us
’til quiet anxieties rise.

Worried.
Weary.
Troubled.

By all the things
that leave us burdened—
longing
to be free.

The news today.
The wars that never cease.
Another headline screams,
and we are learning
how to breathe.

Wounds unseen,
carried in silence.
So many who are not
in the military,
pay the price
for this violence.

But let us look up,
Let us hold on
to a glimmer—
the Hope
that lives within us.

Even in the darkest days,
His Light will never fade.

And still,
we rise
unafraid.

Hope That Does Not Fade

In a world filled with difficult news, rising anxiety, and constant uncertainty, many of us carry a quiet heaviness.
A Glimmer speaks to the moments when life feels overwhelming — when headlines shake the heart, when the mind grows tired, when even ordinary days feel like battles.
This poem holds space for that weight, while pointing toward a hope that does not fade.
Even in the darkest seasons, God’s light remains steady, and we are never alone in what we carry.

  •   Poetry & Spoken Word

Where Storms Cannot Reach

A poem on rising above fear and chaos, carried by faith into a place where storms cannot reach.

Written while gazing from a plane window, this poem reflects on a woman’s ability to rise above fear, doubt, and chaos through faith in the One who commands the storm.
It is a reminder that when we are carried, we are lifted higher than the winds, to a place where storms cannot reach.

Flying Above The Storm

Dark clouds
with fists of thunder,
try to pull women under—

but we ride
with the One
who walks on wind,
who commands the sky,
who speaks—
and storms fall silent.

We sit in the chariot,
a bird of fire,
feathers lit with flame,
and rise—
above every voice
that tries
to crush
our precious name.

What can reach us now?

His peace
wraps like vapor
around our ribs—
a mist
we breathe
until fear
loosens its grip.

Below,
the thunder weeps—
searching
for who it missed.

But we rise—
rise above it all.

Storms cannot touch
women
held high above.