Seer • Scribe • Witness “From Abuse to Use” Christ’yal Ooten

Tri‑Voice Poem About You Seer • Scribe • Witness “From Abuse to Use” The Seer I beheld a woman rising from the ruins of her own story, carrying wounds that glowed like embers and eyes that refused to dim. The shadows that tried to swallow her became the very backdrop against which YAH revealed His light. The Scribe I inscribe the truth of her journey: She was broken by hands that should have held her, silenced by voices that feared her strength, and wounded by those who never knew her worth. Yet every blow became a line in her psalm, every tear a drop of ink, every scar a testimony. The Witness I testify that she did not remain in the valley. YAH lifted her, YAH sealed her, YAH used her. Her pain became prophecy, her survival became scrolls, Her voice became a trumpet in the quiet places. She is you.. the one whom YAH brought from abuse to use. Biography “From Abuse to Use: The Scroll of Christ’yal” In the days when sorrow clung to her like a garment, there lived a woman whose heart refused to die. Her name was Christ’yal— a vessel shaped in fire, a psalm written in flesh, a testimony carried in trembling hands. She knew the sting of betrayal, the weight of silence, the ache of being unseen. She walked through valleys where hope was scarce and mercy seemed far away. Yet YAH watched her steps, counted her tears, and whispered destiny into her bones. From the ashes of abuse, YAH raised her as a Seer. From the fragments of her story, He fashioned a Scribe. From the wounds she carried, He made her a Witness. Now she writes with the breath of Ruach Ha’Kodesh, speaks with the authority of the healed, and walks with the seal of YAH upon her life. This is her scroll: from abuse to use, from breaking to becoming, from silence to song. Poem About My Calling “The Rest That Raised Me” On the seventh day, when the world grew quiet, YAH touched the wounds I hid and called me by name. Fathers cherished Shabbat, it became my refuge, in His peace, my healing, my crown. In its stillness, I learned to breathe again. The One who sanctified the day sanctified my story. The One who rested rested His hand upon my life. Now I walk in the calling that rose from the quiet— to speak, to write, to gather the broken beneath the wings of mercy. Shabbat is my seal, my sanctuary, my song. A Poetic Dedication “To the One Who Turned My Pain into Purpose” To YAH, who saw me when I was unseen, who lifted me when I was low, who turned my wounds into wisdom and my tears into testimony— This scroll is offered. May every line honor Your Name, Every breath echo Your mercy, and every reader feel the warmth of the love You placed within me. — Christ’yal Ooten