Today I walked down a cliff.
Today I looked at impulsion and kissed the mountain, left my sweet scent between the ridges.
Today I am alive because of risk, dirt, and hands.
Hands that grip jagged edges, hands to hold, hands that leave the cross.
And I am handing over rocks that slip and profanities that ricochet, but not handing over my life to God, still nestled beneath my tongue and behind the fiery spirit that tells me I am sizzling with too much passionate fire for my Savior’s cool waters.
And I am scared that my sins will be washed clean.
I have learned to like the burning ashes a little too much.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s