Welcome to the all new June 2019 issue of Spirit Fire Review! In this issue we have poetry written by Rebekah Lorton, Edilson Alfonso Ferreira, Michael H. Brownstein, Jonel Abellanosa, Cindy Bousquet Harris, LA Felleman, JD DeHart, Peter C. Venable, and Bruce Mundhenke. Our talented visual artists are Junior McLean, Fabrice Poussin, and Don Beukes. Also in this issue is a "Special Feature" from out of the UK! We are honored to share with you "The Wall of Answered Prayer". Get

The Wall~A Christian National Landmark of Hope made of a million bricks each one a story of answered prayer. You are invited to be a part of an amazing memorial being constructed and rising physically and spiritually out of the UK. The Wall of Answered Prayer wants to share your testimony about Jesus! Designed by Snug Architects, this Christian National Landmark of Hope will contain one million bricks, arching into the sky like an ethereal bow, and inside each brick will be

"A Final Wish" "Charmed" "Doubt" "Gentle" "Giants" Fabrice Poussin teaches French and English at Shorter University. Author of novels and poetry, his work has appeared in Kestrel, Symposium, The Chimes, and dozens of other magazines. His photography has been published in The Front Porch Review and the San Pedro River Review as well as other publications.

Don Beukes is an amateur photographer, capturing nature scenes and images which are thought-provoking and conversational. White Star Discovery Floral Cream Autumn Dust ~Don Beukes Don Beukes is a South African and British writer. He is the author of The Salamander Chronicles (CTU) and Icarus Rising -- Volume 1 (ABP), an ekphrastic collection. He taught English and Geography in both South Africa and the UK. His poetry has been anthologized in numerous collections and translate

Junior McLean is Bronx native, for a time lived in Anderson, Indiana and back, current freelance digital artist and graphic designer since 1996 and a digital cover “2D/3D” artist for Gaming, Fantasy, Sci-Fi; and fractals which have been used for public exhibitions and more. Currently, he multi-tasks, runs a small freelance business, sells art online, and is just looking to get himself out there for the world to see. Here are two pieces of visual art by Junior McLean. And chec

Easter Where are the women who mourned, the men who whipped him along the way? Where are the soldiers who divided his clothing among them? Where is his mother, his brothers and sisters, his disciples, the apostle he truly loved? Where are they? What am I doing here? Should I look for him elsewhere? Man Born Blind John 9:1-12 We are all born of light. Before I washed the mud Formed with his saliva off my eyes In the pool of Siloam, there were glimmers Like rose petals on shiny

Parable Mountain I call to you in my high places where it is easy to forget your name. I call to you in lower places, where the earth binds me with threats. How easy it is to name you there as I am bent, cast around by wind Yet mysteriously stronger in the process. Child You call me child even as I listen to my own silence. You have whispered to me on my concrete journeys inward and across space, reminding me of the unseen valleys ahead, hints a

Vocation Praises climb my spine, through the throat, buzz inside cheeks, adjust my heading. ~LA Felleman Currently, LA is an accountant at the University of Iowa. Before that, she was a seminary professor. Prior to that, she was a pastor. She moved to Iowa City with her husband in 2016 and started writing poetry soon afterwards. In order to learn this new craft, LA attends the Free Generative Writing Workshops and participates in local poetry readings. https://formandpower

On Brothers, Journeys, and Faith Beyond that corner, beyond my neighborhood, besides my town and roads abroad, even above these clouds and distant worlds, there are people I’ll never know about. They don’t feel how much I love them, for I’m sure we’re all brothers, conceived on that primeval wellspring, long, long ago, on that sainted sixth day of the divine journey of creation. Since then, by meager strengths and unlimited one faith, we’ve been colonizing our dear earth, on

MY HIKE IN THE WILDERNESS Three days of hiking with only bottled water is penance enough for one lifetime, the path littered with opera and

~Cindy Bousquet Harris Cindy Bousquet Harris is a poet and a licensed marriage and family therapist. Her poems can be found in Eclectica, Ghost Town Lit, Inlandia: A Literary Journey, and in several anthologies. She has lead poetry workshops for adults and for at-risk youth. Her book manuscript, Ice in Heaven, was a finalist for the 2018 Hillary Gravendyk Prize. Born and raised in the Midwest, Cindy now lives in southern California with her husband and their children. You can

Spirit Surfing Surely you know that you are God’s temple Tonight, moonlight silvers dunes and shells. The surf chills bare feet. Red-billed gulls lull; Sandpipers nest with bellies fry full. Salt spray whisks and mists my cheeks. God's Spirit lives in you! My temple has heavens and hells — Hellish pits and heavenly peaks. God’s temple is sacred and pristine. The surf pounds in acclaim “All is well.” You yourselves are that temple* — spirit waves swell; My temple fills to the

The Garden There were trees in the garden, They flourished in the wind, Placed there with love, Each to the others companion and friend. Heavenly dew on their branches, Not a raindrop yet had come, Their joy was exceedingly full, Knowing where they were from. As yet there was no time, Past and present were one, Endless euphoria... No evil had been done. And they knew the Ancient One, He walked often in that grove, They loved and were loved in perfect love, And none with anoth