šŸ•Ž Operation: The Fire That Drew the Lion šŸ¦

Posted on by Marguerite Grace

A Prophetic War Psalm in the Voice of Israel




šŸ•Ž Operation: The Fire That Drew the Lion šŸ¦


A Prophetic War Psalm in the Voice of Israel




I. I Am Small, But I Must Stand


I am smallā€”yet I arise.
They bring mightā€”but truth defies.
Not by sword, nor shielded hand,
But by Godā€™s breath, and His command.


I did not rise to steal or boast,
But to defend what matters most.
They struck with fire on Sabbathā€™s graceā€”
On Simchatā€™s joy, they scorched my place.


They breached the gate with flame and blade,
And wrapped the scrolls in ash and shade.
They slaughtered sleep. They burned the airā€”
And still the world just stopped to stare.




I am smallā€”yet still I rise.
This is Zion. This replies.




II. The Ring of Fire Tightens


They name me proud. They call me flameā€”
While digging graves without a name.
But I have counted, end to end:
The missiles aimed at infantā€™s bend.


Iran writes war in silent lines,
While proxy hands redraw the signs.
The tunnels hum beneath the stone,
And mothers wait beside the phone.


Yet I send leaflets in the sky.
I warn. I plead. I testify.
I shelter both the vile and justā€”
While rockets launch from schoolyard dust.




I donā€™t rejoice in ash or boneā€”
But I defend whatā€™s mine alone.




III. The Bomb That Builds in Quiet Rooms


The papers smile. The cameras panā€”
But still they smuggle wrath to man.
She crafts her fire in sacred lies,
And cloaks her heat from searching eyes.


For forty years sheā€™s dreamed my fall,
And murmured chains for one and all.
Not just for me, but libertyā€”
She aims to bind the world, not free.


But Heaven stirred. The arch grew bright.
Michael rose in armored light:
ā€œThis land was sealed by flood and flameā€”
Touch her, and bear the blood-bound name.ā€




Let traitors plan and tyrants boastā€”
But Israel stands with Heavenā€™s host.




IV. The Commander and the Flame


A man arose, not robed in prideā€”
But with the oath the scrolls implied.
No crown he wore, but still he came,
And banners blazed without a name.


Beside him walked the sons of dust,
Each rifle gripped in sacred trust.
They do not sing. They do not hateā€”
But guard the gate and hold the weight.


We build the wounds we did not start.
We bind the fires that tore apart.
We shield the weak. We bear the flameā€”
And rise by covenant, not fame.




I do not fight for wrath or prideā€”
I fight to hold the fire inside.




V. The Lion Roared from Holy Hill


The skies turned redā€”but not with wrath.
The Lion rose along His path.
He did not come to hunt or feedā€”
But roared to guard a living seed.


He stood where angels watch the dust,
His breath the walls, His gaze robust.
He roaredā€”not once, but threefold criedā€”
To shake the bones of those who lied.


And all who heard it knew the tone:
Not furyā€”but the pact alone.




I do not roar for land or gainā€”
I roar because the Lamb was slain.




VI. This Cry Is Not to Boast


Do not return this fire to meā€”
I begged for peace. I sought to be.
But peace was mocked and swept awayā€”
And I was left to bear the fray.


I warned. I wept. I tried to spare.
But silence bred a deeper snare.
Now fire rings around my doorā€”
And still I stand, though tired and sore.


If I retreatā€”the blaze runs wild.
Your cities burn. Your child defiled.
So mark this hour, O watching worldā€”
The scroll of judgment is unfurled.




I fight so you may sleep in peaceā€”
That mercy may not wholly cease.




VII. The Flag That Bears the Flame


My banner flies through soot and stoneā€”
Two stripes of blue, a prayer alone.
The Star of David, bruised yet true,
Still calls the skies to break in blue.


It bears the silence of the tomb,
The psalms that stirred through exileā€™s gloom.
Itā€™s stitched with grief, but edged with graceā€”
A flag alight with Heavenā€™s face.


Let nations write their cunning lies.
Let councils trade away the skies.
Iā€™ll write in fire, if I mustā€”
Not for conquest, but for trust.




This flag was drawn through ash and flameā€”
It will not fall from Godā€™s own name.




VIII. Envoi: The Scroll Is Sealed


Let it be written. Let it stay.
I did not seek this fire-play.
But when the gate poured darkness inā€”
I rose to guard the souls within.


I did not boast. I did not flee.
I rose so all the earth might see:
The Lion does not war for prideā€”
He shields the womb, the flame, the bride.


And when the final dust is blownā€”
The mount shall still meet morningā€™s throne.
For I am Israelā€”scarred and swornā€”
The child of exile, flame, and thorn.




I am smallā€”but I still rise.
The Lion walks where Zion cries.
And when the fire drew near againā€”
I stood for life. I stood for men.

Written by Marguerite Grace

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Published by Marguerite Grace

As a passionate and versatile writer, I craft works across all genres, fueled by a special love for poetry and short stories that inspires me to create. Writing since childhood, I've nurtured my talent, winning poetry contests in school and continuing to weave words into vibrant literary works of emotion and intrigue that uplift and motivate. Holding a Regents Bachelor of Arts Degree, I bring depth and artistry to my storytelling, embodying a spirit reminiscent of Mata Hari, mysterious, bold, and a fervent sleuthe. I infuse every piece with an enduring allure that resonates long after the final line.

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