Testimony

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.

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