She was the flame in midnight rooms,
A voice that shattered shadowed tombs.
Chains broke when her whisper came
She called on Heaven, and fire knew her name.
She prayed like storms fierce, unafraid,
A watchtower soul, forever stayed.
She stood where many dared not go,
And brought back life from undertow.
She freed a multitude souls once bound,
With nothing but faith and sacred sound.
Through barren nights and endless pain,
She broke their yokes and loosed their chains.
But when it came to hers, the skies grew dim
The heavens closed their ears to her hymn.
All stayed quiet as her son slipped away,
And Heaven turned its face that day.
The Lord she called Abba, the Lord she called Friend,
Who walked with her, who moved to defend
Who once shook Heaven to answer her cries,
Stayed silent that day, and closed His skies.
The One she trusted from start to end
Looked away when her world lost its stand,
As her son slipped away, not held by her hand.
And all the words she once could speak
Curled inward, vanished, left her weak.
Her knees, once strong in holy war,
Now faltered on the trembling floor.
She opened her mouth but Heaven was still.
No thunder came. No sacred will.
Only silence, cold and wide,
And sorrow no scripture could override.
She, who loosed the captives’ chains,
Now sat alone inside her pain.
The lioness of midnight cries
Now whispered questions to empty skies.
But let none say her strength has gone,
For quiet hearts still carry on.
Even a warrior laid low with ache
Is not a soul her God will forsake.
She forgot how to pray but her knees remembered.
She crawled through despair, her body surrendered.
Paralyzed by her son’s last breath,
Stunned by the nearness of sudden death.
She begged the others: “Pray for me
I cannot reach where I used to be.”
Her voice was gone, her spirit torn,
Her grief a prayer in silent form.
And grief, too, is a prayer raw and real.
A broken offering time cannot heal.
One day, the fire may rise anew,
But for now, her tears are breaking through.
And even warriors must rest their sword
When loss speaks louder than the Lord.
—The Wounded Fighter