What’s a poem you wrote that made you think, “Oh… I’m actually becoming a poet.” Share it below if you’d like—and tell us what shifted for you when you wrote it. 👇👇👇

I sit with my sisters among a fuming flame. We just stood at its feet, burning, our shame. Our passions were taken from a bag and thrown into a fire. It was a symbol of the freedom we long for and desire. Now we sit among the warmth and for each other, we pray. The truth of the Lord lies in everything we say. The fire now burns and causes the logs to fall. The Lord is among us helping us stand tall.

Jesus on a long ago day, You changed water into wine. Everyone marveled at this Because it tasted so divine. I have taken more than my Share from the jar. It has taken me everywhere, But always back to the bar. I used to have strength But the wine makes me weak. I have been lost and alone, And not sure of what I seek. My head hurts my body aches And my heart is caving in. I am surrounded at the bottom Covered with my sin. So God, I beg of you as your desperate daughter. Please lord turned the wine back into water!

What’s one thing you’ve been wanting to write about—but keep putting off? No pressure to be poetic. Just answer honestly.

There is a dirt path I haven't traveled A mystery on my journey It's a road I"ve heard stories of, A path of freedom and peace. It is frequented by One Man. A Man that extends the road wherever He goes. He speaks, He listens, He prays and He heals All on this pebbled path. A woman touched his robes on faith, A blind man could see because of clay. Ten lepers were healed And He fed thousands All on this road. I stand before the dirt path I haven't traveled. A mystery on my journey, It's a road I"'ve seen in His word, A path taken in faith and hope. I want to frequent it, I want to stop at the well Sit at His feet And drink the living water He offers the Samaritan woman. I want to be that woman, I am that woman. I want to talk with Him And pray with Him And follow Him. I stand on the dirt path I haven't traveled. A mystery on my journey, From the road I see a Hill with a cross. A path to salvation and healing. He is on that cross, Nailed there by my sin. I want to lay it all at His feet He died for me. He rose again and travels the road. He continues to speak, He continues to listen, He continues to heal. I walk the dirt path I haven't traveled, A mystery on my journey. It is the road to Jericho. A road of faith, peace, hope and healing.