Impact

I.
The pressure—
fissure,
tear.

Quiver me, a woman wounded
and under His repair.

II.
Collide.

A raw sense of power.
I feel it every time I’m smashed into the Divine—
a pulp of heart, lungs, and memory,
reshaped as love.

III.
Curses once the staples that held me together,
right in all I knew
without challenging the foundations beneath my feet.

I shook that magic off me
and created my own sparks and thrills.

My heart’s magmatic cure.

Moonlight Spiritus