I will Sing

This voice of mine, 
this prayer born of my tongue, 
I will never let it fade away. 
In celebration, I will stomp through the open fields,
my heart bursting with a joy so deep, 
wrapped in the quiet embrace of my faith.

Oh, I will pray and praise, 
the ancient thanksgiving prayers and songs 
my mother hummed into my soul, 
words that held worship in one hand 
and comfort in the other. 
I will lift them high 
until they disappear like smoke. 

For if my greatest laughter 
can hold within it a river of tears, 
then why can’t my deepest sorrow 
be stitched through with gratitude?

I will gather my gratitudes like precious stones 
and string them together, 
and though my hands are still rough from healing, 
I will steady my breath and let this praise mend 
what is broken inside?

I will let every word become a release, 
a gentle pull drawing the ache from my veins. 
I will offer this as my constant prayer, 
for a gentle grace found me when I was lost.

I have been turned inside out by the storm. 
I have been weathered and worn. 
And this story of my rescue is etched into my bones
in a language only I can truly feel and understand.

And so, I will pray and praise, 
not in spite of the chaos, but because of it. 
I will pray when my voice is nothing but a whisper,
because my spirit has always been the truer instrument. 
I will voice my endless gratitude.

Because I have walked through fire 
and made it through the rain, I will praise. 
I will send my thanks echoing 
from the highest peaks so it may carry far. 
Yes, I will keep praying and praising… 
until my very being forgets the shape of sound. 
I will never stop singing the songs of praise.