Lion you call with faith of old,

Lion you roar with mercy untold.

I’m hidden in the weeds, I’m looking for you.

Looking for your eyes – they blaze bright blue.

Slapping branches back, these twigs sting.

Where is my Commander, my Protector, my King?

My ears are filled with your cry of strength.

I see your form, your figure – you’re at arm’s length.

Reach, you beckon me. Stretch out your hand.

I need you to make the choice to follow me not man.

Feel my fur, sweet child, I’m gentle and kind.

Yet my body is infused with power, claws defined.

I will pounce on your adversaries. Stand guard while you sleep.

Give beauty for ashes and endless joy when you weep.

You can lean on me. I never grow tired.

I promise to give you your dreams – all you’ve desired.

I’ll examine your heart, child. Replace gall with delight.

I’ll strap to your body – white wings designed for flight.

You will soar overhead, sweet one. I’ve chosen to honor you.

So, you will survey the heights and rest with me in the dew.

I will never leave you nor forsake you. You will carry me in your heart.

Eat my truths, beautiful. May these promises never part!

Though absent in body, right now, here on earth’s soil,

I give you my signet ring, crown and bathe you in sweet oil.

In the last days, you will hear my familiar roar.

Let my light dispense darkness. Shine it from the open door.

-         Kimberly Willingham

“You would not have called to me unless I had been calling to you,” said the Lion.

-         C.S. Lewis, The Silver Chair

Looking to the light above,

I ask, what does it mean to love?

What does it mean to give yourself away –

To place earnest emotions on display?

Heart. It’s a pumping muscle, but it’s emotive as well.

Feelings echo through my body, like a weathered conch shell.

My appearance, covered in a veil. It’s muted by the lace.

Can you see my eyes? The questions written on my face?

I’m covered in this shroud. Vulnerabilities intact.

Is it time to piece together my soul, abstract?

Like Picasso’s paintings, emotions and fragments run wild.

However, identifying love’s worth, I trust again, like a child.

Swelling in my bones, joy bubbles in my veins.

All insecurities dissolved, only certainty remains.

Will you lift the veil, sweet lover of mine?

My heart will cling to yours like an ivy vine.

Eyes open, assured, illuminated by the daylight,

Dependence develops wings, in this truth – I take flight.

You tell me – Beautiful, love is not a shooting star.

It’s not a fleeting flash – or a song strummed on guitar.

Love is written in actions. It’s displayed in the day to day.

It’s not there only in the colors – it’s present in the grey.

Love will die, but rise again with power.

It will stand tall in twilight and serve as the watchtower.

Love is selfless. It will climb a brick wall.

It will rally the troops with a fervid battle call.  

You see, Dear heart, love is not a meek emotion.

It’s a passionate crusade, dedicated to devotion.

-Kimberly Willingham

Zephaniah 3:16-17

“On that day they will say to Jerusalem, “Do not fear, Zion; do not let your hands hang limp. The LORD your God is with you, the Mighty Warrior who saves. He will take great delight in you; in his love he will no longer rebuke you, but will rejoice over you with singing.”