My Ninth Hour

Art by Healarum @artmajeur.com

I need a healing. The kind of unspoken healing that takes place at a good old fashioned southern holiness revival. I need the laying of hands on me, a spiritual crash cart to send shock-waves through my body and soul, wipe my brain, decalcify the pineal gland and allow me to feel anything again. I need a spiritual sister to look deep into and through me, to pull the darkness from my gut. Is it God that has stripped me bare and made me indifferent to life? Is He the One who has pulled back all the layers and flogged my being so raw, to prepare me for something I cannot yet see? Like the Son at the ninth hour, I feel forsaken.

Please. Show me the way...