STATIC ON THE LINE

A prophetic word

pent up in my belly

its origin,

the fire of God

pre-wired to release

words of majestic revelry

and explosive intensity,

expanding like fire shut up

in my bones.

At first light,

I held that word

as fear gripped me

frantic button engaged  -

Constipation in my thoughts

and no ability to push,

fear turning into a dream.

Shudder to think

the intrinsic word

would go away,

hoping God would pick

another on a more suitable day.

Prophetic loins of that magnitude

begins to well up in me,

prompting spiritual

birthing pains

with the appearance

of an eight and half month

pregnant woman -

clay turned purposefully

on the inside of me.

Captured by His Spirit

and sparked by lightening

words spewed from my mouth.

Steadily inquiring of the

Lord, am I to speak these words

to so and so?

It’s remarkable and I’m in awe

words flowing from my heart

here and there

in the midst of different

discussions - the switch of

lightening occurred the other

day and ever since these

pungent words,

flowing effortlessly

from my belly.

I go before so and so,

asked can I give you

a word - sparked by God,

so and so replies sure,

prideful undertones emerge -

hit me with your best shot.

Releasing the prophetic-loins

embryo to so and so.

He promptly replied

who’s that word for,

it can’t be me

must be “static on the line” -

Reversing my stance

asking God why,

what did I do?

Did I speak wrongly

did I put my own understanding

on Your secret sauce?

All the while

not hearing a reply

from on high -

It was so quiet

I kept replaying inwardly

“it must be static

on the line” .

Suddenly a fresh wind

permeates my heart

speaking out so and so’s

real name - Chandler Dyer

postured flat footed,

no qualms or

skin in the game,

Gods backing came

to my aid

in the nick of time.

His strength affirmed me,

His peace shushed me,

His clarity shifted the fog,

of the enemies tactics

I did an about face,

and belted out

“no more static on the line”.

Experiencing the calm

over taking the atmosphere

a righteous incense

fumigates all who were near.

Sky rocketing me into the moment,

where faith is my canvas

brush strokes of ease - His signature

my sword as the word of God

all cradled on the inside.

This is where mercy collides

with “static on the line”

combusting the prophetic loins

and opening the flood gates -

A newly found resurgence,

restores and rekindles

only to remind me;

“Say what I told you to say”,

even when there is -

Static On The Line.