Stand Up Eight
"Fall seven times and stand up eight," the old proverb sings,
A lantern lit for weary hearts with weather-broken wings.
Each stumble shapes a steadier stride, each tear a clearer view;
The strongest trees are those that learn to dance with storms anew.
I cannot choose the winds that blow nor every hill I climb,
But hope can turn the roughest road into a path through time.
When doubt declares the night too deep, I answer with one spark,
For faith remembers dawn before it brightens all the dark.
So I will rise with grateful hands, though yesterday was long;
The scars become a quiet proof that brokenness grows strong.
"When hope takes the first brave step,
tomorrow finds the courage to follow."
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