Sacrament Lying on the cold shore, I wrap my arms around my knees, curling my shell of a self into a conch: lips press to heart asking if the One who hears the cries of all even listens. Pleas reverberate through my core, returning to me unheard. Born of the brokenness of healing, My bitterness gives way to apathy from the famine rations cannot rectify. This starvation for salvation! Manna! Provider! Is the One who feeds the sparrows out of crumbs? My essence from ashes-- must this structure of sand scatter simply by a gentle breeze? I shiver from the mid-winter wind beginning to blow out of the depths of some Divine Lung. Is the One who charged dust full of life to destroy me with His exhale? Yet I beg for those currents to disperse this shell and peacefully float away— float on the winds of sacrament.
Kaitlyn Newbery is an adjunct English professor at University of the Cumberlands. She enjoys exploring questions about her faith through metaphors and storytelling. Her works have recently been published by Agape Review.