Dark clouds with clenched fists
full of thunder,
try to pull me under—
but I ride
with the One
who walks on wind,
who commands the sky,
who speaks—
and storms fall silent.

I sit in the chariot,
the bird of fire,
feathers like flame,
and rise—
above every voice
that threatens
to crush my gentle name.

What dares to come for me now?
His peace
wraps like vapor
around my tight ribs—
a mist
I breathe
you cannot break 
my wings.

Wind glides on wings
built from prayers
and prophecies—
through fire
and holy breath.
Upon His misty breath,
I sing.

Below,
the thunder weeps—
searching
for something it missed.
Rise, beloved.
Rise above it all.
The storm can’t touch
what rides with God.

Sometimes, love shows up
not in grand gestures
or dramatic moments—
but in the quiet presence of a stranger
doing their job
with steady kindness.

We met as strangers
In the soft rhythm
of a grocery store—
Shifting between veggie aisles,
In and out of ordinary chores.

Ben places corn like prayer
Inviting us to linger,
To pause and gently ponder
What love might look like

If it had hands

      and purpose.

Ben wears a smile—
An infectious expression,
Effortlessly showing love.
He warmly engages—

Words

  firmly embracing us.

Ben has been through much.
Life has carved stories
into his skull,
Yet he shows up—
Holding goodness upon his lips
While working
the day-to-day shift.

Ben exemplifies love.
It rests softly
on the edges of his words.
His kindness
prompted my heart
to write about a stranger
who reminds me
what love looks like.

BE LOVE