Yet… Your silence is louder than my scream, Your nearness heavier than my shame. I am the corpse You refuse to abandon to the crows, The exile You guide by a fire I did not kindle. I am the torn curtain You stitch with Your own breath, The broken loaf You raise and call enough. Because I am shadow, because I am less than breath, You enter the dark and become the dawn. Your scars swallow my story, Your blood rewrites the ledger I burned. Selah. Who is this that steps into the furnace with me? The One who wears the ashes I deserved, Who drinks the dregs I left in the cup, Who bears the stripes I carved in the night? Have mercy on the footprint You refuse to erase, Have mercy on the shadow You crown with morning. I have no defense but the print of Your nail, No hymn but the groan of Your Spirit in my dust. I have no refuge but the wound that whispers stay. Blessed are You, O God of the forgotten, Who makes the vanishing an everlasting. I will shelter in the hollow of Your side— Unworthy, yet claimed, yet carried, yet kept. Shadow in Your sun, dust in Your wind, Forever nothing, forever Yours. Amen.