by Marchell Dyon

Your words are like manna from heaven
Your words are a balm to my skin
Your words feed my soul
With positive emotions

From your words, I am drenched in the spirit
From three sprinkles of water on my forehead.
I can then put on the white robe 
My harp in hand
I sing about the glorious blood of the lamb.

Your words, I have not neglected to read
Your words have built a shield about my heart
It keeps me in your divine grace
And by your word

My soul no longer spins
Between heaven and hell
I keep my soul compass skyward
Always facing north

Your words feed my soul 
With positive emotions
Your words are a balm for healing
Your words are like manna from heaven 

Marchell Dyon is a poetry enthusiast. She enjoys reading poetry wherever she can find it. Once, she was nominated for the Best of the Net prize for her poem As I Stand by My Window Dreaming of Falling. Her most recent publications are Toasted Cheese Lit Journal and Medusa’s Kitchen. She has taken many poetry workshops; her education and thirst to improve her craft has constantly developed despite having both schizophrenia and bipolar disorders. She continues to live and write in Chicago, IL.