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.