Car Communion

This is an experience. An experiment. Part poem, part audio, part confession, part reflection, and all of my soul on the page. This is for the ones who are struggling. For the ones who can’t see the light at the end of the tunnel. For the ones who have spent years drowning like me. Grab a pair of headphones, listen along as you read, and then check out the playlist at the end.I didn’t know the divine until I heard music and song. I only feel free on the road, where I belong. My church is metal. Four doors and four wheels. My demons ride passenger, hands steady on seven seals. My prayers ride the waves. Emotions in perfect sync. I scream the words. Push my lungs to the brink. I lay the pedal down all the way to the floor. Trying to run from the past. From problems I can’t ignore. What if I kept going? Missed that next turn? Would I arrive somewhere better? Or would it all continue to burn? The temptation to run it whispers in my ear. But I have to go home to the place where she is near. So I stay for communion. Eat of the flesh, drink of the blood. It tastes bitter like broken promises washed away in the flood. It’s the holy spirit packaged neatly in chords. The words comforting. like protection wards. But when the window’s down nothing else compares. I can see the face of god And I feel like she cares. This is my car communion. My place away from it all. My sanctuary of peace as the world continues to fall. Go Forth in PeaceHere’s a playlist for your next ride. Come worship with me. The Writer's Journey is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit bradleyramsey.substack.com/subscribe