A Life of Grace (A Dandy Saint’s Poem)

A Life of Grace (The Dandy Saint’s Poem)

I was born with sequins in my sorrow,
A halo crooked just right.
My prayers were whispered in dressing rooms,
Under the soft confession of light.

They said grace was for the holy,
For the ones who never fell—
But I found mine in the broken glass,
In the stories I dared to tell.

I’ve sinned with laughter,
I’ve danced through pain,
Turned every bruise into bloom again.
For grace, my love, is not about clean—
It’s the art of rising from what’s been seen.

I bless the mirror, the scar, the stain,
The champagne tears, the holy rain.
Each fall a waltz, each ache divine,
Each flaw a note in the grand design.

So pour the wine, let the choir sing—
Grace wears velvet, not angel wings.
And when I fall (oh, I surely will),
I’ll fall in style,
I’ll fall with grace still.

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