The Spark That Breaks the Silence Book Sneak Peak

Spark of Divine I meet a lot of people who were conceived through rape. One of them once said, “I am the product of rape.” Her words were heavy with shame. 

Something inside me resisted. Not her pain—never that—but the framing. Because rape is an act of violence. It’s a theft of power, not a creation of life. And while sexual assault happens every day—every 68 seconds in the U.S. alone—conception is not its intention. Life doesn’t emerge from the violence itself. 

Life comes in spite of it. 

What creates life is light. 

Science has recently discovered that, at the very moment of conception, a literal flash of light bursts from the egg as it is fertilized. It’s called the “zinc spark.” Through microscopes, you can see it—a burst of radiance as sperm meets egg. This isn’t metaphor. This is biology affirming divinity. 

That flash is the soul entering. That flash is the divine spark. We are not the product of violence. We are the product of light. Of divine potential. Of power that cannot be stolen. 

That’s why the way we tell our stories matters. And why shame never belongs to the child—it belongs to the act. It belongs to the abuser. 

And even then, shame is not the goal. Change is. 

A woman once sat across from me, her hands folded in her lap. “I can’t blow up my family,” she said. “I can’t expose the abuse. If I do, everything falls apart.” 

I looked at her gently and asked, “Do you know how they carve new roads through mountains?” 

She shook her head. “Dynamite,” I said. “They blow it up. Sometimes the only way out is through.” 

Her eyes welled with tears.

 “You don’t have to go public to heal. But don’t confuse silence with peace. Don’t carry his shame as if it’s yours. This isn’t the wound you created—it’s the one you inherited. And you get to choose what you pass down.” 

Because what we carry in secret becomes the inheritance of our children. And what we break open becomes the legacy of our healing. 

 I thought of a moment from my teenage years, sitting outside my father’s law office after school, waiting for a ride. He was wrapping up a phone call and, thinking the door was shut, didn’t realize I could hear him. 

“Statistically, he’s not going to jail,” my father said. “The numbers aren’t there. Almost all these cases walk. But I’ll take it. I’ll fight. I think we can win.” I leaned in. 

“You just need to know—they’ll rake her over the coals. They’ll accuse her of leading him on. She’ll face her attacker in court. It will retraumatize her. If this is about budget—spend the money on therapy. Help her heal. If you want to fight, I will fight. But I won’t make this decision for you.” 

He never spoke to me about it, and I never told him I’d heard. I didn’t even know who the girl was until years later, when a friend quietly shared it had been her. That moment taught me something I’ll never forget: justice is complicated. 

The system is flawed. But compassion, discernment, and truth still matter. And sometimes the right thing isn’t what makes headlines—it’s what helps someone rebuild their life. 

Less than 3% of rapists ever face jail time. The system was never built for victims. So we must stop asking why more women don’t report and start asking why we tolerate a structure that silences them. 

But here's what’s also true: the system may be broken, but we are not. 

We are resilient. 

We are luminous. 

We are not required to set ourselves on fire to warm others. 

But we are invited to light the path for those who come after us. We don’t owe the world our trauma, but we can offer our healing. Whether it happens in courtrooms or quiet therapy rooms, whispered confessions or fierce truth-telling—change begins when we stop pretending it didn’t happen. 

Because shame locks the door. But truth holds the key. And when we speak the truth in love—not to destroy, but to liberate—we become the match that lights the fuse. 

Not to “blow up” in rage, but to blast through what once blocked the way. 

Creation starts in light. So does healing. 

And what we pass down—through our stories, our strength, our silence or our sound—ripples out. Let it be light. 

To get the first dibs and bonuses and even invite to book launches- click here for free! Book Release and Launch