I Don't Fight Pretty Poem by Taushell Davis

I don't fight pretty
My prayers are messy,
My praise is cracked,
My hallelujahs come with tears attached. I don't wear silk in the spirit realm,
I wear scars and steel at the helm.
My armor's dented, my shield is worn,
But I still stand when the devil storms. I've warred in silence, warred in song,
Warred in nights that felt too long.
I've warred with bills unpaid,
With babies fed and joy delayed. I've warred with grief, with shame, with lack,
With memories that clawed my back.
But still I rise, still I pray,
Still, I trust He'll make a way. I don't fight pretty
But I fight with faith.
I fight with scripture on my tongue,
And promises I haven't yet sung. I fight with grandma's prayers in my chest,
With oil-stained hands and no time to rest.
I fight with hope that won't let go,
And angels watching, every blow. So don't mistake my quiet for defeat
I'm just gathering strength beneath my feet.
And when I rise, I'll rise in flame,
With VICTORY stitched into my name.