Amanda Lindamood
1 min readJul 7, 2019



Some experiences remind you of home

here being one of them.

My ears welcome the music

my glands their sweat response.

My eyes levitate towards the stain glass on the ceiling

where I imagine the music lands and collects

like dripping droplets from a faucet become a puddle.

I am relaxed in this company

reminded of my most spiritual peers and guides

thinking of medicine balls

and offers of beat box

and walks at a sprint pace.

The homecoming sweetens my lingering grief

as my tears are confused out of falling.

My cheeks remain dry, a little flush.

Taut is my hair pulled back in a bun

whips of sweat created curls dangling by my eyes.

My skin glows in its sun captured color

glistens with the felt sensations of how I’ve been nurtured.

Godliness follows spaces that are want for God to impact them

allowing them to be a dwelling place for sanctification.

Our lips no longer need to pontificate

as humility makes us radiantly speechless.

Focused on our breathing

aware of how our siblings are doing

iteratively transformed by who has been placed in our midst.

One cannot place themselves alone in their energy

while they’re energy is being reformed communally.

The network of exchange intricately at work in us

cascades of color coming in with the breeze

from windows we are bold to leave open.

Open to the Spirit.

Open to brunch seekers.

Open to whatever it is that God will say.

Open to feeling in earnest what is still ahead to face.



Amanda Lindamood

Writer. Thinker. Facilitator. Advocate. Invested in accountability for power based violence, creative initiatives, and meaningful, nuanced dialoguing.