"And one of the elders saith unto me, Weep not: behold, the Lion of the tribe of Judah, the Root of David, hath prevailed to open the book, and to loose the seven seals thereof." Revelation 5:5 Welcome to the January 2017 issue of Spirit Fire Review! We have decided, with this issue, to begin publishing monthly instead of on a rolling basis. I hope you enjoy the features in this lovely magazine as we continue to publish many outstanding writers whose work will leave you abso

A Call to Love – A Tree of Life Hope deferred maketh the heart sick:but when the desire cometh it is a tree of life. Proverbs 13:12 (KJV) Another great gift, a God-given gift filled with time, seasons, and opportunities. This season of my life cannot be influenced by last year’s ending. I evaluated my thoughts words and actions, and on reflection, it is apparent that I was not led by God but driven by fear and hopelessness. I was stuck, “in the twilight, in the evening, in t

The Pact My legs swing, warm sun tickling bare feet On an egret-sprinkled green palm of earth, a purple heron soars settling on a buffalo its buoyancy turning tears into kanmashi streets and me at five, on your shoulders, secretly happy Water gurgles in unscrubbed manchattis sooty pots bob in fenced-in waters Saris pulled up, tucked tightly at the waist, mothers scrub squealing bodies their laughter settling into ruts yet un-eroded a melody to hold their hearts toge

The Nest of Love The giant mango tree on the rear lawn towers above the window in my room upstairs Beneath its canopy, laid on a limb, there is the bird nest A small family – the mother, father and the son In the evenings, when the sky turns primrose with the golden moon peering above the distant hills I hear some tweeting sounds coming from the nest Then I rush towards the window I see the tiny bill – wide open, rising above the nest wall saying a thousand little things to i

Saturday-night Psalms i. His joy is overwhelming. Like an answered prayer it surprises me, lifts my heart to bursting as an overfilled balloon, red, gold, ascends a sunburst sky; and though I’m deaf and blind like every ordinary mortal the blood of my heart, every vein courses through me joy, the inexpressible irrepressible most precious joy of knowing GOD GOD IS GOD IS LOVE. ii. Holiest of Holies, I stand upon a mountain-top; My heart stands on tiptoe to rejoice in You. Like

Spirit Fire Review|Visual Art and Haiku by Janine Pickett

Look at Me when I awake at the break of day and I listen to the highlights of overnight I'm quickly reminded of how much you struggle with my blackness another brutal incident, an indictment of ugliness pain, grief and shame, and I endure your criticisms, your attitude your low expectations, your indifference but you too, are a victim of the establishment yet you continue very subtly to oppress me with built in systems that sanitize and legalize the perpetrations. I am consta

Uncertainties How long more I will be supported as I have been? Where else I will find more solace, healing and a bit of the true coziness yet some cuddle? I’m afraid that it is bound to be dried the source I have been fed for so long, so much I have called on it. I can’t ever spare its comfort and relief, being me, quite often, the lost sheep. I know there have been God’s angels, disguised like humans, who have rescued me from some frequent strange, unreal and dubious underg

Spirit Fire Review|A Poem by Donal Mahoney: Never Know Who Might Be Listening-

Turned I turn my head stiff with anxiety’s brutality and shame. I fill my lungs with the cold fumes of survival and find myself lost from the legacy of miracles on my garments, lost from the jewels under every stone in my yard. I turn my head and I see again the gifts that pull me through, every time, each time at the last minute. So why do I suffer in doubt, blistering with fears that never hold water? The world teaches me it is calculating and void of mercy. God teaches me

Job 10:9 In this land where I yearn for You, dust comes to rest more expeditiously, and to accrue more substance than my weakening protest can undo. It settles on the desk, and on the arms of chairs: on walls it dims the mirrors t​ill our forms are bleared. Sun flecked accrual swarms from shaken pillows. Coverlets are burdensome with dust. So the regrets gather on mind’s crust, thicker than cerements: garments too heavy for my shrunken thought to wear. In this dry land, my fa

We are currently accepting submissions for poetry, testimonies, essays, visual/prophetic art, and music. Please visit the website for additional information. Read the guidelines, send us your best! We look forward to hearing from you!