Part V · Reclamation
Psalm for the Unseen
God of the overlooked—
I’m not here for blessings.
I’m here to breathe.
You watched me kneel
in a house that called itself holy
while it broke me—
one silent bruise at a time.
I thought you’d turned your face.
But maybe
you were on the floor beside me,
waiting for me
to leave.
This isn’t a psalm of praise.
It’s recognition.
Of survival.
Of starting over.
I don’t quote scripture anymore.
I’ve lived enough of it
to know deliverance
doesn’t always come with light.
Sometimes it comes
with paperwork.
With courtrooms.
With silence.
Sometimes,
it’s just walking away
and not going back.
But if you’re still listening—
I still believe.
Not in noise.
Not in institutions.
But in you.
Quiet.
Still.
Present.
Like breath.
Like mercy.