They Call Me...(Tamara Broussard-Lafayette, LA)

It began as a still small voice,

When life still seemed shiny,
Crying during The Way of the Cross,
This young girl was desperate for Jesus.
The sacramental incense was sweet in my nostrils.
The name above all other names,
Was a joyful song in my heart.
"Little girl you belong to Me!"

When blossom of adolescence turned to thorns,
Pills were ingested,
This young woman desperate to run away,
Run away and die.
Standing at a cold metal screen door,
I was crying again.
This time not for God but to The Divine Parent.
The voice louder, more stern,
Like rain on a tin roof,
"I Am here, go to bed little girl."

Years passed,
God and I,
Off and on again,
Ebbing and flowing,
Other gods took The Almighty one's place.
A new song filled my soul,
Honky tonk replaced hymns,
Jack Daniels replaced Jesus Christ.
My Creator's call came louder still,
"Choose life little girl!"

Like a scene from a morality play,
A chorus of wingless angels came singing,
A song that saved my life.
The call came again,
A request to be of service,
To do His purpose,
Fear became like cotton in my heart's ears,
As the familiar song played again.
"You are My hands and feet little girl!"

Every time I pray I hear it.
Every sacred word I read I feel it.
The calling comes,
Along with the fear.
" Serve My flock,
Be the woman I made you to be,
Little girl."
Always loving,
Always kind,
God always calls me little girl.

But does God know,
Under this smooth brown skin,
Are chicken feathers?
In this heart full of love and mercy,
Is prejudice, intolerance and lust?
In this mind full of the knowledge
Of His word and immeasurable loving kindness,
Is porn and the word Fuck?
Does The Master of the Universe know that I not afraid of,
If I can do it but if I should?
When I asked the answer came as a question:
"Does the want of loving and serving Me outweigh lust and serving self, little girl?"

That question made me feel,
Like Atlas under the globe.
Pins and needles,
Needles and pins,
Pierced my conscience and my soul.
Me a minister of Gods' word and love,
A vicar to Christ's people?
Me, Tamara Dolores Broussard?
The very thought fills me with,
Desperation to do God's will,
Joy at the possibilities,
Excitement to see people's shock.
A application to seminary has been filled and signed.
God calls me 'little girl'.
Soon they will call me...
Reverend Tamara.

Comments

Lunatic (Lily Lechler - New Orleans, LA)

“Lunacy” comes from the moon, Who cycles through brilliance and darkness Bipolarity’s patterns are not so easily assumed Opposites not so well harnessed Who cycles through brilliance and darkness? The girl who sits in bed, wrestling with Opposites. Not so well harnessed As she thought, her brain gives reason the slip The girl who sits in bed, wrestling with Her body, depressed, her thoughts manic. As she thought, her brain gave reason the slip And gives the gift of life in a dreamlike panic. Her body depressed her thoughts. Manic Lunacy comes from the moon And gives the gift of life in a dreamlike panic Bipolarity’s patterns are not so easily assumed

Louisiana Words Remembers Jorge Arturo

There’s nothing that hurts more than when we lose someone from our Louisiana Words family. But, the beauty of our writing movement is that the words of our loved ones live on with us. On June 20th, 2023, Louisiana Words Allstar, Jorge Arturo, moved on from this world leaving our hearts broken. He was a charismatic and talented human being. Jorge resided in New Orleans, LA and had been active on Louisiana Words for over a year. To honor Jorge’s life and work, we will be sharing his writing and live performances all Summer 2023. Please help keep his spirit alive by sharing his work. We know that Jorge’s words will connect with our readers and we hope to keep his spirit alive. Jorge’s first submission: “The Dog Show” debuted on February 6th, 2022 and is his most successful piece to date. In 2022, Jorge spent 10 weeks in the top with “The Dog Show,” “Weavers,” “They Say Love Kills, This Time It Really Did,” and “If Hell is Real, It Looks Like an Airport.” His la...

The Harvest (Nick Perere - Baton Rouge, LA)

When I was in college a barely adult youth, strange men a circular ellipse around me placed their heavy hands on my temple and prayed in twisted tongues like at the Tower of Babel Casting out the Demon of Homosexuality. I like to think on that day, the Demon was free’d. And he formed this gayer than gay version of me. Maybe he escaped the Bible Belt and found himself in New York or San Francisco. Free from being Oppressed. Repressed. Dogmatized. Free from the thoughts of self harm. Free from trying so hard to be someone they’re not meant to be. While I mourn for my youth, it started over when I escaped the spiritual enclave the cult. Doesn’t make me an atheist. Because that in itself is a religion. But I no longer converse with the Creator. Or walk in the Holy Spirit. I have embraced my demons And that brings me peace. God loves all of His children except you.

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