Weak

In the shadow of moments when strength starts to fray,

We find ourselves faltering, in the soft light of day.

The heart feels heavy, the spirit ached and worn,

Lost in the echoes of battles forlorn.

Yet in weakness, there’s a quiet, profound grace,

A chance to reflect, to find our true place.

Even when weary and struggling to stand,

There’s courage in reaching with an open hand.

The weak are not broken but tenderly bent,

Finding new strength in each faltering lament.

Through the trials of frailty, we grow and mend,