The Architecture of God

I have seen what fell. I know what came to ruin me. But ruin never got rule over me. The fall met my faith and lost its footing. God held me up when the ground gave out; His hands became my foundation. So I stand above the rubble with sky in my spine, birds in my breath, and time circling me like protection, not prison. What tried to bury me became my blueprint. I am not wreckage. I am witness. Not broken ground—God-built rising. The woman who turned ruins into a throne.

© Slam Poetry by Lucyalia 2024–2026. All poems are copyrighted. Any use requires credit to @Lucyalia. All rights reserved.

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