My life as a Mexican Latina

cross

In silver gleam, the cross adorns,
A symbol worn, a faith reborn.
Yet within, a struggle deep,
Where shadows lurk, and secrets keep.

With lips that speak of grace divine,
Yet actions falter, hearts entwine.
In moments veiled, truth may bend,
But grace extends, a love to mend.

For in this journey, fraught with flaws,
Redemption waits, on holy shores.
A beacon bright, amidst the night,
Guiding steps towards the light.

So wear the cross upon my breast,
A testament to faith confessed.
In grace, we find our hope, our rest,
For in His love, we are blessed.

(This poem is about being a Christian and wearing a cross around my neck, but I still sin and do wrong)