Flair Up & Faith

Letter to the reader:
This poem captures the struggle of seeking healing in flawed hands, only to find true peace in faith. It reflects on the disappointment of earthly remedies and the realization that true restoration comes from God. In pain and uncertainty, the poem emphasizes surrendering to His love, trusting that He alone defines and redeems us, beyond any illness or suffering.

Six days added to the list, six more in agony.

Strength dwindling, hope slipping like sand through clenched fists.

"Where does it hurt, little girl?"

They prod and poke, their hands promise healing

but bring only pain. "Trust us," they say.

"We are doctors, respected and qualified.

This time will be different, this time we will help."

Open wide, little girl.

Let the pills consume you, dull your mind,

glaze your eyes until even your own reflection

feels like a stranger.

Call to us, little girl.

We will quiet your fight, drug your spirit,

and leave you wandering between pain and sedation.

By Day 5, hope is a faint whisper.

Forms are signed, beds are emptied,

and another takes your place. "You can walk? Then leave."

Walking out, stomach clenched,

head heavy with drugs, heart heavier with disappointment.

"Until next time," you mutter,

still searching for salvation in flawed hands.

But how can a broken mirror reflect perfection?

Do I not trust the Lord on High?

Is He not the healer who lifts the lame,

raises the dead, and quiets the storm?

Open wide, little girl.

Not just your mouth for pills,

but your heart for His love.

Six days in pain taught me to be still,

to know He is Lord of Lords,

King of Kings, the great Physician.

He sees my suffering, yet blesses me through it.

Pain may grip my body,

but my spirit finds peace in His embrace.

Open wide, little girl.

Open wide to the Spirit who makes you whole.

Endo belly or not, you are fearfully, wonderfully made.

Your disease does not define you; your Creator does.

And He calls you resilient, radiant, and redeemed.