THe RETURNING

THE RETURNING 

My pulse, once snuffed to ash and ember,

Flares back, a coal that won’t surrender,

Steady as roots grip storm-soaked clay,

It thrums alive through night to day,

A lifeline stitched from shattered thread.  

Misfortune’s hail, a jagged rain,

Once battered me with shards of pain,

A howling gale from every flank,

Now stilled, its fury cracked and sank,

A broken blade beneath my tread.  

Strength blooms fierce, a gnarled oak’s might,

Outlasting tempests, clawing light,

The foe of fate, once sharp and vast,

Lies trampled, dust in shadows cast,

Its reign snapped like brittle frost.  

Victory gleams, a hammered shield,

Forged in fire, unbent, unhealed,

I bear it proud, a molten scar,

Etched deep where wounds and battles spar,

A crown of iron, self-reclaimed.  

Faith, a river carving stone,

Courses through my marrow’s bone,

No siege can splinter what I’ve grown,

I stride from ruin, flesh my throne,

Resilient, rising, wholly sown.