by Natasha Bredle

was good. Not some. Not
‘these few.’ But every rolling glade 
under his thumb, every chipper bird song 
directed at the sky. The shell-shocked 
bedrock, the shape-shifting seeds.  
The spectrum of visible light stretched across 
the all-consuming flood. Still, draped 
beneath the colors, a girl clenches
a blade of breathing clover in her fist
and questions what ‘all’ means. With all 
of her heart she trusts in Him.
She abandons her own understanding. 
Her teeth scrape against the whale’s 
stomach cavity as it becomes her mantra:
all of it, all of it. On dry ground she weeps 
under the sun, because all of it 
is meaningless, isn’t it? But the chapter turns 
and something new begins to take. He, the 
Lord, does not change. Almighty. He said, 
return to me and I will return to you. 
She returns. Turns her face. Let anyone 
who is thirsty. She thirsts. Whoever believes. 
She believes, with every sun rising and setting 
with the tide. All who have hope in Him. 
In Him, no darkness at all. The girl kneels 
at the mount of olives, and goes. All 
of you. Not some. Not only. All 
of you, Jesus said. Come to me. 

Natasha Bredle is a young writer based in Ohio. Her work has been featured in publications such as Trouvaille Review, Words and Whispers, and The Madrigal, and has received accolades from the Bennington College Young Writers Awards as well the Adroit Prizes. She edits for Kalopsia Lit. In addition to poetry and short fiction, she has a passion for longer works and is currently drafting a young adult novel. She wants you to know that you are loved more than you could imagine.