Whose. | A Prayer

For if we live, we live to the Lord, and if we die, we die to the Lord. So then, whether we live or whether we die, we are the Lord’s. Romans 14:8 Dear God, Show me whose I am. Not who I am, whose. Show me who I belong to because this world attempts…

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Palms.

I fell hard into rough palms where love was craved and life seemed calm, but fingers aren’t meant to be support systems  so like water this soul slipped through them  with nothing to catch me. I learned, it’s not about feelings it’s about figuring out  the ways we stop growing when our perception caves. It’s…

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Steadfast.

Because the clouds choose   to be pink and blue, I choose to spend this  time only worshipping you. To bask in your creation and marvel at existence since your lovely dedication  is the reason I am. Just as the sky transforms I mold myself to fit your view and promise to stay steadfast  and…

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Even When.

Teach me to seek you even when the world feeds me with empty  promises.  Teach me to love you even when I don’t agree with the plans set out for me. Teach me to worship you even when my burdens sits on my chest weighing  me down. Teach me to trust you even when I…

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Advance.

Your love washes over me in waves.  Despite my losses I can be brave knowing I am kept as your daughter, for even when I slept  you thought I mattered. I was not created  by scientific chance I was divinely placed— planned in advance. Photo: Pinterest

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Music | Spoken Word

She remembered the tubes.Each pierced into her skin, never had she seen such beautiful masterpieces. She visualized violins. She thought of how her neck would arch to fit into the bow of the violin, as if she and the violin could become one. And her heart beat so perfectly in rhythm you would think it’s…

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Grandma’s Hands.

Just as trees and flowers grow  on soft supple earth, grandma’s womb birthed entire generations.  A lineage that stretches across her spine, to engraved itself at the bottom of her feet.  Like vines, the veins on  her hands told a story, and with them,  she created history. Yet she still lives.  She lives in the…

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Altar.

Take me to the altar open like a casket  vulnerable for everyone to see. Take me to the altar refine me with your grace fill every inch of me. Take me to the altar where lives are resurrected  and changed completely. Take me to the altar to bask in your presence— and grow like an…

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Lines.

If love was like crisp autumn mornings, would you still open a window to let the sun in? Despite the frost, I open up like a new journal to be tampered with until it becomes something familiar. Until the feeling of paper  on rough finger tips become  a need–an expectation  to be used purposefully. Unleash your secrets…

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Enough.

If I could see me as you see me, then doubt would  become a myth. Your love is undying altering, refining  yet I try to replace it with the world. Believing I can fill  my own spirit, but  forgetting that it’s you who provides. I have enough, because of you. I have enough, in you.…

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