Divine Victory Lines Poem by Ronni ManoaHofbauer

This line upon my chest runs deep,
A silver thread of victory drawn
By surgeon's hands while I did sleep,
Between two worlds at breaking dawn.

But greater hands were guiding there,
The Almighty God who holds my days,
Who heard each whispered faithful prayer,
And through the darkness, lit my ways.

They split my armor, broke the seal,
To mend the drum that keeps my time,
While God's own grace helped me to heal,
His mercy marking every line.

Not all war wounds are born from strife—
Some come from fighting just to stay,
When Heaven's power grants new life,
And faith gives strength to find the way.

Each morning when I trace its path,
I feel His presence, pure and true,
Who lifted me from death's dark wrath,
And shaped my heart and spirit new.

Some see a scar, but I see more:
A testament to divine grace,
Where God's own hand led me to shore,
And gave me strength to set this pace.

Let others hide their battle signs—
I wear this badge with sacred pride,
For in these healing, silver lines
Lives proof that God stayed by my side.

This mark's no flaw upon my form,
But witness to His saving light,
Who steered me through my fiercest storm,
And gave me power to win this fight.

So trace this line of hope with me,
This holy script, this saving grace—
For in this scar, the world can see
The mighty works of God's embrace.

For every beat beneath this seal
Rings praise to Him who made me strong:
Not just survival, but to feel
The joy of knowing I belong.

In every pulse, in every breath,
I feel His mercy, vast and deep,
Who called me back from gates of death,
And gave me precious life to keep.