The Cedarville Review 2024

THE CEDARVILLE REVIEW 71 I am not fated to say the fates cannot touch me. I make no claim to heartbrokenness as a destiny, but claim it instead as a gift. I walk decidedly– love before, peace behind. My steps are an even-paced stumbling: discovering intention woven in saturated atoms. I see creatures in the silhouettes of trees– I lose words, I search desperately. I see a weeping man in the clouds stretched sidelong by the wind, arms like wings– he shares with me. Undeserving, I look away. Mine is a tentative claim, to a tongue tamed, my heart swept and unafraid– this is bloody, not dazzling or star-crossed, but planned and submitted to. Command (My Magnifi cat) Grace Thornsbury “For he who is mighty has done great things for me…” Luke 1:49 I look the paintedness in the eyes and write it down. Between the lines, I beg you to fi nd me behind the wallpaper. I shrink before the massiveness of every ruined backroad, every backyard-burned marshmallow. Here is something molten and precious– in my hands, given, like a command. So my mind burns like golden parchment, and I make ink of the charcoal.