I feel raw.
I feel the pestering infection as it seeps through my open wounds.
The light breeze feels harsher as it cuts through my fibrous openings.
A delicate touch only sends a
shockwave of pain through my being.
I feel raw.
Like a wounded doe as she lay naked, at whim of the watchful predator.
My heart beats openly without the encasing of my flesh and bone.
My pulsing blood is victim to the next scavenger that comes to stab my soul.
The rawness comes with an edge I cannot ignore.
I feel it with the escape of tears; they run without boundary and they come back without fear.
The pain of memory pounds against my head, crushes my windpipe and squeezes my heart with despair.
I am raw.
Unrefined. It’s unrelenting. I am sore and strained with each element that passes through my unfleshed being.
I am raw.
But my heart beats steadily.
______________________
My writing process usually occurs at night. When the demands of the day are laid to rest and my mind wanders to the deeper issues that tug at my heart and cause my mind to run with worry. I pray to the Lord as I walk through my worries and leave them to Him. This particular writing came to fruition as I sat and tried to tell the Lord how I was feeling (although He didn’t need me to find the words to describe it). What my heart finally said was: I feel raw. And I prayed that the Lord would protect my heart and soul and cover me with his armor. In the weeks that have passed since I wrote this, I feel his armor. And although I may feel raw sometimes, I feel my heart beat steadily. And it is stronger with Him.
Raw beauty, by MME
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