Panashe Chigwedere Poet Free verse

It's A Miracle

You survived cancer.  
Death had already drafted your name,  
yet Yahweh stretched His hand through the valley of shadows  
and pulled you back into the light.  
The doctors counted you among the lost; Heaven counted you among the chosen.  
It’s a miracle that you survive 
you’re not just alive, you are a living proof, a breathing psalm of a living miracle.  

So many battles you fought where the odds were carved against you.  
You were outnumbered, outarmed, outlasted  
yet you triumphed.  
Not by might, not by power, but by the whisper that said, “Live.”  

You passed your education despite coming from difficult circumstances,  
from empty cupboards and crowded rooms where dreams were mocked as luxury.  
You never thought you would excel; failure was the dialect of your street.  
But look  your name on certificates, your mind unshackled, your future rewritten.  
It’s a miracle.  

They said you wouldn’t bear a child,  
that barrenness was your inheritance, your final sentence.  
Now you hold one in your hands  
warm, wailing, heaven in flesh, prophecy fulfilled in ten fingers and ten toes.  
They said you weren’t going to get a job;  
now doors open at your voice, and you are an employer, a table-setter for others.  
They cursed you. They looked down on you.  
They measured your worth by your wounds.  
But God did it for you. Not to shame them  to show Himself.  
It’s a miracle. You’re a miracle. Indeed, a living miracle.  

You were in a sick bed, machines keeping vigil,  
expected to draw breath for the last time.  
Mourners gathered in whispers.  
But the Author of life edited the ending.  
Now you’re fine and fit, your lungs filled with resurrection air.  
It’s a miracle.  

So don’t worry about what you’re going through.  
The same God who split seas for the shackled  
will split time for your rescue.  
In the midst of suffering He brought out Israelites from being captives,  
from chains to covenant, from bricks to blessing.  
Whatever is keeping you from your destiny 
the closed door, the delayed promise, the grave they dug for you  
it’s just a matter of time.  

For you were not saved by to be silent.  
You were spared to speak, healed to herald,  
delivered to declare: I am evidence that God still intervenes.  
When the world reads your life, let it read no other title but this 
It’s A Miracle.

And when your children ask how you made it,  
tell them: “Grace carried me when my legs failed.

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