In the year two-thousand thirteen,
The world around me split unseen.
Whispers echoed, shadows stirred,
And only God knew what I heard.
They said I was broken, out of place,
With weary eyes and a hidden face.
Labeled "crazy," dismissed with shame—
But they never once called my name.
I walked through fire they couldn't see,
Battling storms inside of me.
Hospitals, silence, sleepless nights,
Tears that blurred my inner light.
I couldn’t feed or clothe or stand—
My mother held my trembling hand.
She saw the war, she stayed beside,
When all the world turned to deny.
But oh, within the chaos loud,
A softer voice broke through the cloud.
It wasn’t madness, nor disease—
It was the sound of God’s decree.
He said, “My daughter, don’t you fear,
You’re not alone, for I am near.
This pain is purpose, these wounds shall heal,
For I have marked you with my seal.”
I saw a vision, bold and bright,
Of angels clothed in holy light.
A prophet rising from despair,
With fire in her wounded prayer.
They didn’t see the crown I wore,
The gifts I’d one day speak for sure.
They didn’t know my mind held keys—
To break the chains, to set souls free.
Now healed, I walk with lifted head,
With wisdom from the tears I shed.
From silence rose a sacred sound—
A voice that makes the lost be found.
So if they say I'm "different" still,
I’ll say, “Yes—called to do God’s will.”
For what they called insanity,
Was just God's hand preparing me.
©heavenecho
H