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Daily Archives: October 13, 2014

Beauty – Promote Yourself

jesus on cross

Beauty is not characterized
by the efforts of my appearance,
but was borne
upon two wooden beams and through three piercing nails.
With each drive of a nail
faces line up in the mind of the Savior, one after another,
each with a mask of his own:
deception, shame, pride.
With each tear being shed
and every cry screaming from the cross,
women fall into the arms of men,
hoping to find true love and longing to hear those words:
“You are beautiful.”
With each dig from the thorns
and tearing of flesh,
men seek fortune and fame,
believing that power can only be obtained
through ambitions and violence.
“It is finished.”
The world with its
tainted love and enticing roads to death
stands still.
Divine blood pours over
the lost and broken,
vain and deceptive,
young and aged.
It penetrates every evil,
wipes off each mask,
exposes truth
and defines true love.
This beauty can only be found
through such brokenness,
through such sacrifice,
with the invitation of accepting it for myself.
Beauty is the power of Your love
that flows through my veins
and enraptures all of who You are
in me.
Lauren Heiligenthal

‘This Child’ – Promote Yourself


This child had done nothing wrong;

he threw no stones, spat none,

Fired no missiles nor guns

at mankind,

yet he barely appreciated what it meant to be alive,

he didn’t have that frame of mind.


This child was pure;

he did not curse, did not hate,

Saw himself above nobody more,

yet he is the victim of his own geography

where being on either side is not being free.


This child knew no politics;

nothing of one man’s broken promises

and ceasefires ended

with the kick of the soldier

and butt of his gun.

No, this child knew of no sin,

was unaware of the things happening around him.


This child corralled no man into a territory

enclosed by walls.

Did not enforce a law

with a shout, and his gun drawn.


But this child died in a hail of shells,

running scared through rubble,

with no judgement, no pain he wished to inflict,

yet he died in the arms of his weeping father

He died with no concept of conflict,

and now not a happy ever after.


No, this child was a child in each sense,

a child who was loyal to his parents and understood consequence,

and was killed, struck in a brutal attack

and now his mother cries each night,

wishing for her little son back.


This world is one where humanity just takes

and children pay the price for their forefather’s mistakes.


oli ferenth

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Unstill Birth – Promote Yourself

Coattail caress my clavicle as I backstroke.

I close my eyes and feel the lilies brush my bottom,

Feeling for the centre where the water is cool.

I feel the contractions,

Fickle as the fish below my waist,

Quicken like the cicadas in the dusk.

My feet dare to reach for the sludge

And find none.

I am a wave in once-still water,

Cramping and curling into myself.

I fight my own weight to stay afloat,

Much heavier than just months before,

Oblivious to the shore.

I call out, but we are here alone,

She in her fluid and me in mine.

I cry and choke, swallowing the reflected stars.

My wretched limbs give up on both of us

As the lilies mock my undress.

Hayli Cox

Hayli at

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