Moved by Grace

Moved by Grace

She walks with pride,

But a different kind.

It is the kind that tells you a story.

It is a story that moves you, like glory.

I’ve seen her darkest moments.

She’s lived in the eye of the storm.

At one point, she became the storm like passionate rage.

But when the clouds rolled back and the skies cleared,

Her feet touched the ground as her eyes lifted to the Heavens.

She said, “Never again,”

And she kept her word.

She walks with love,

Hand in hand with her heart.

Too many times,

She gave it up

To a man, a stranger, or a friend.

But even beaten, broken, used, or neglected,

Her heart always found its way home where she belonged.

She walks with dignity.

She has her downfalls.

She is nowhere near quintessential.

But her flaws, those unspeakable moments,

Are what keeps her fighting.

Her backbone is as strong as her mind,

And her mind is her driving force.

But her strength and worth are her voice.

She walks with power.

I am not blinded by her light.

But I have a clear vision of her intent and ambitions.

She yields a shield to her chest

And in her hand is a sword.

The sword is what she can do with it,

And what she does is unbeatable.

When I look at her,

I am moved by grace.

I am grateful for women in her likeness.

The ones who never forget the meaning of their name,

And who stands in the storm and won’t bend in the wind.

So, each night,

I stand face to face,

Locking eyes in the mirror,

And say, over and over, “She is love. She is power. She walks with grace and that can never be replaced.”