Pigs and pearls
And little girl dreams
And the nothing
More than what I’m not.
Birthed by an
Your flint tongue
Grass on fire,
But can you
Like skin dying
In the sun.
Sin is sometimes
The only thing
I eat, less
Calories, slim waist,
And I take
That quick image
With my eyes
Like it’s the only
A fiery heart.
Good deed goes
Let me know
Like I know
The hard parts
Of the dark.
My god is me.
I’ve never had a hard time loving myself.
And hating myself.
And focusing on myself.
It’s the sin of pride. Of utter disillusionment.
And it’s all over Twitter.
It’s all over the world.
Our fear is tricky.
It has a way of coiling, snake-like into our knees and elbows.
It becomes us.
And we play victim to it.
But then for a few of us,
there’s that moment we give it up.
We exchange the world for the One
who created it.
And we’re left with fresh eyes,
Old lens and retina scalpeled
and peeled, soaking in a hot-white
reality where truth is buried deep
and lies are swallowed whole.
We are new.
But the stink
can still seep into
a stalking, walking
ready to devour.
But then again,
there’s also the
beating of our
I need to get my stuff published.
But my stuff has a heart for Jesus and a gritty way of expressing itself.
So, “Good luck, Ericka” right?
Because my good friend, Veronica, just solved all of my problems.
She’s created the Heart of Flesh Literary Journal that is seeking writers like me.
And if you happen to be just like us, please submit your work, too.
Think of the ministry this could be, connecting Christians and non-Christians and aptly producing works that ACCURATELY portray the Christian faith.
No hair braiding or hand holding here, folks.
Can you do me a favor and share this post so we can get the word out? Tweet, Facebook, call your grandmother.
You should probably call your grandmother anyways.
I’d appreciate it. And so would she.
Here’s to creative genius, a deep love for the Savior, and painting the dark with light.
I talk to Jesus all the time.
But not in a super weird religious way that doesn’t fit right but in a sort of, “Oh hey there, best friend, this guy is offering us free popcorn. You want some, too?” kind of way which often gets me kicked out of Wal-Mart.
It’s like I take Him in by osmosis, deep breath by deep breath.
And I think it might be for a few reasons:
Perfection? Ah, heck no.
But growth? I’ve got that one down pat.
And really, it all began with one little word to the Father Almighty:
Insert Adele sound clip here.