When Mine Released Me

No one could see
what bound my hands,
no bruises lived upon my skin,
no one knew the weight I bore,
or where the cage had been.

I walked, I smiled, I did my part,
I spoke of strength, of grace, of calm,
but somewhere deep, a silent lock
still held me tight to bitter psalm.

I averted my eyes just a moment from the prize,
a girl I no longer recognized.
The separation from my soul was tragic,
and left me void of love’s young magic.

I grieved bitterly over my sin,
to tell you how much, I could not begin.

All my life I had served to present the Lord a crown,
but I suffered shame — I had let Him down.

The chains were not of iron or steel,
they did not rattle when I moved,
they lived in memory and hope,
in dreams I never proved.

They whispered softly, “Not yet done.
Not finished. Not released.”
They promised futures, borrowed lives,
and called it “what could be.”

I did not break them all at once.
I loosened them by choice.
By every time I said “enough”
and trusted my own voice.

By every door I did not open.
By every step away.
By every time I chose my peace
instead of one more day.

And now I stand with open hands
and nothing pulling tight.
No hidden ropes around my will,
no shadows in my sight.

I am not brave.
I am not proud.
I am just finally free.
Free from the weight of what was almost.
Free from the life I could not be.

Some chains fall loud.
Some fade apart.
Mine released me,
soul and heart.