by Melissa M. Frye
Swathed in the ribbon-like body of the White River, my hard edges erode; their silty remnants disperse on the current while deeper water bores out biting shame. The empty chasm of me fills not with water, but an essence that cures the incurable and instills hope. As I break the surface, the heavens do not open, God’s spirit does not descend like a dove, no voice calls me beloved. But the unseen hand holding mine guides me as certainly as the river breaks around my waist.
Northwest Arkansas native, Melissa M. Frye, is an award-winning poet whose work is forthcoming in the Mid/South Anthology from Belle Point Press. She’s a self-proclaimed genealogy geek who adores Dean Martin and dislikes squirrels.
3 thoughts on “A Testimony from the White River Gospel”
Missy this is a beautiful poem & tells us about His love! Thanks for sharing it!!!
Beautiful work, Melissa!