Fire Tiger Writer

Romance author. Poet. Philosophy and theology student. (Deidrea DeWitt)

[deidreadewitt]

There was something hypnotizing about the way his eyes stared at the world before him, lost in thought, ankles crossed; his lips silent, but his soul flaming off his skin. It was impossible not to notice the rhythms he kept: his chest expanding and retracting with air, his eyelashes fluttering as he opened and closed his eyes, the way his head tilted and his hips shifted to accomodate his muscles. And I wanted nothing more than to see his thoughts, to unfold his image and see his true self in all its pure and dark colors. I wanted there to be no place his soul could hide. I wished we hadn't skin, as it barricaded our spirits from one another, our bodies producing nothing but shadows. The only things to communicate between us were our eyes, hands, and lips - and it felt as if it weren't enough. But I loved him in silence. In waiting. In images and rhythms. And I knew if I saw his complete soul - from thoughts to flames - I would gladly burn in all of his elements. . . . Unfold By Deidrea DeWitt 2.3.23 . . . #poety #poetsofig #lovepoems #poetsofinstagram #poetryofig #hypnotic #soul #soulmate #image #communication #love #skin #spirit https://www.instagram.com/p/CoNNIWNyjjr/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[deidreadewitt]

And I stayed up long past midnight because I was tired of sleeping through darkness, through dreams, through precious minutes that would never be returned to me. I wanted to watch the snow fall at 4am in the winter, To hear thunder in summer at dawn. But mostly, I wanted to live – to shed off empty schedules  and meaningless routines that fed neither my body or soul. And I wanted to praise my Father in darkness, as I did in light; to reflect on his hand in the seen and unseen, to heighten senses I had never used in daylight. And to live consciously – painfully, but purposely, through darkness, through dreams, through precious minutes that would never be returned to me. Stay Up By Deidrea DeWitt 1.15.23 . . . #poetry #poetsofig #poems #poemsofig #igpoetry #poet #poets #latepoetry #midnightpoetry #midnight #latenightthoughts #christianpoetry #writing #amwriting https://www.instagram.com/p/Cnqh-o9LGBn/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[deidreadewitt]

I lay suspended between desire and drowning, between suffocating and holding my breath; Gasping for both life and death as I’m pulled deeper into bliss and tragedy. And I ached for his touch – for his rescue – to feel his lips breathe life back into me After decades of nightmares, memories, and truths had stolen my dreams and left me with insomnia. And every thought crashed,  every pain rippled into every nerve, and tears spilled from every corner, the salt water burning the wounds in my torn-up hands that had done all they could to build a home. And as I lay on the floor,  I saw the stars above the water, and I begged God to keep me alive even though I had lost the will to live. So I wrapped myself in heavy blankets, pretending its weight was his warmth, that his breath was in my ear, his fingers interlaced with mine to stop  the bleeding so they could heal. And I shut my eyes, never sleeping, only begging to be his – that he existed; That these wet dreams – The fatal mix of what I desired  and what was drowning me – would desert me so I could dream with the stars again. . . . WET DREAMS by Deidrea DeWitt 1.11.23 . . . #poetry #poetsofig #igpoetry #poet #darkpoetry #insomnia #pain #nightmares #savior #dreams #water #waterpoetry #sleep #home #poetsofinstagram #deidreadewitt #poems #poemoftheday #poemsofinstagram #poetrywriter #poetryandprose https://www.instagram.com/p/CnPkdvByJNe/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[deidreadewitt]

The addiction was enough for me. Only in short bursts, of course, because the pleasure of addiction wasn't sustainable, and it was ungratifying even when it was. No -- addiction could only be delicious in small bursts of wanting, the ache of desire fermented just long enough to mature into something worth fulfilling. If the desire hadn't matured -- if it hadn't begun the process of breaking down within its host -- then there was no need to pacify it. There needed to be a descension. A breakdown. A helplessness found only in Purgatory. Addiction was only satisfying in the necessity of being saved. . . My writing journal, 1.2.23 . . . #writingjournal #journal #writing #thoughts #addiction #amwriting #writersofIG #writersofinstagram #desire #breakdown #insanity #poetry #prose #poetryandprose #midnightthoughts https://www.instagram.com/p/Cm9TIn9SlrV/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[deidreadewitt]

I made this today. Relatedly, I also wrote 4 new poems today. That dream was brutal, guys. . . . #dream #meme #dreams #baddreams #saddreams #nightmares #badday #sadvibes #sad #imagination #dreaming https://www.instagram.com/p/Cmb-skPJqia/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[deidreadewitt]

Indulge

While it is a natural question to ask why God would allow evil in this world, it is a more important question to ask why mankind is so eager to indulge in evil of their own free will.

We claim that a good God would have prevented war, murder, and genocide, but what of man's eager indulgence in it? It makes little sense for a God known since the beginning of time for His design of freewill to intercept every evil human action. He has never claimed that to be His purpose.

What is truly confusing is man's willingness and thirst to participate in war, murder, and genocide; why he allows the shadows in himself to take over when permitted. In these instances, man is the creator of evil, not God. In these instances, this is not a failure of God to act, but the total rebellion of mankind against a good God.

But it is natural for mankind to ask God why He would allow evil in the moment of pain and turmoil, and it does not cause shame in asking... and yet, it is also completely natural for a man to shift the blame to God when he acts of his own evil heart.

It has always been this way, ever since Eve wanted to be God and ate the forbidden fruit, blaming the serpent when she introduced evil into the world; and when Adam was faced with the choice to stop her or rebel against God, he chose to rebel and then blame God for creating Eve in the first place.

[deidreadewitt]

Become

Don't worry about who you are supposed to become.

Take your responsibilities seriously.

Follow your passions unapologetically.

Attend to your health diligently.

Sacrifice everything necessary to do those three things. Eventually, you will become exactly who you are meant to become without even noticing.

Or -- even more common -- you'll become someone better than you ever imagined.

[deidreadewitt]

My favorite verse. This verse is the entire theme to my favorite book of all time, PICTURE OF DORIAN GRAY... and I keep it close to me as I pursue my dreams of writing and publishing books. I've realized that I don't really want to be famous. I just want to be seen. And that is the desire of every individual, as God is the One who sees the ultimate depths of us; everything we are, were, and will be. And it's easy to lose your soul in the process of searching for affection and purpose, feeding it empty calories as it begs for substance. Feed your soul what it actually craves. Submit it to God and see how He sees and loves you once you've given it over to Him. The world will fade. Your soul will not. Take care of it. . . . #soul #mark #bibleverse #fame #food #soulfood #craving #doriangray #biblestudy #love #affection #christianity #substance https://www.instagram.com/p/Cl2y5zXrfiV/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[deidreadewitt]

I met him between passion and will, in the space where control and sanity were muted colors compared to the vibrance of his eyes and skin. The veins of his hands and neck were composed of pale blue and heavy crimson, his serenity and danger pumping straight to my heart. There was nothing to decipher whether the warmth of his blood was for consumption or destruction -- and I didn't care to ask. The dark contours of his lips blurred the lines of love and lust, straight into the realm of obsession. With his hands and mouth, he bled his colors into me, my pale earth tones slipping onto the floor as his breath filled me with heaven. And my soul changed colors - from the muted existence of my passion and will... to the vibrancy of his consumption and destruction. . . . Muted 11.13.22 Deidrea DeWitt . . . * * * * * #poetsofig #poems #poetry #igpoetry #poppoetry #lovepoems #darkpoems #lovepoetry #indiepoets #poet #poets #sinfulpoems #sin #love #idolatry #healing #fear #deeppoems #infatuation #painfulpoetry #pain #longing #yearning #soul #vibrance #colors #color #muted #mute https://www.instagram.com/p/Ck5v4NlrG4P/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[deidreadewitt]

About Man

And there was poetry about women, but not about the men they loved. There was nothing about the way a woman desired the creature who came before her. What must Eve have felt when she awakened to find Man next to her, realizing that she was a piece of him? That his skin was only hers to touch, that his eyes could look to no one else but her. That his whispers were only between her and God, that his laughter was only for her to hear. And what must she have felt realizing that Man’s heart ached for her before she had even existed; that his heart sank with the weight of loneliness down to the last of ribs, so God took one of them out to sculpt her who Man had been aching for? Did she see the way Man’s eyes rested with her beside him? Did she see the way the sweat ran down his brow as he worked to provide for her? And in her time, did she notice how his hands had been formed to hold her, to arouse her, to hold her up in paradise? Did she notice how the tones and notes in his voice were different from every other creature in the Garden, that he knew nothing of poetry until the day she was created? And in return – What poetry did she write? Did she ever tell Man of her obsession – how his existence was the reason for her own? How there was no peace for her away from his heart since she had once been the bone next to it? Did she ever tell him how the notes of his voice soothed her and allowed her to breathe deeper, or how his hands had been keeping her together? That her eyes were only for him in paradise? He was a piece of the finale of creation. The only other piece outside of herself. And somehow – There was no poetry about the man that woman loved. Nothing about how his existence was the reason for her own; nothing about how she would do anything for the creature who came before her. About Man 10.18.22 Deidrea DeWitt

[deidreadewitt]

Sometimes I think I should have been born as a French writer, because I love bread and hate everything else.

[deidreadewitt]

Valuable

I cannot explain the phases of the moon, nor the ecosystems of the ocean; I cannot find the answers to many questions, ranging from simple algebra to philosophical questions such as, “what is art?”; nor can I always correctly identify my own feelings, my own skills, and how others see me. 

If I cannot do such simple things, how can I say that I can find the purpose and meaning behind my existence?

There are small joys that give me great satisfaction, but they are not purpose. There are large successes that lose their value over time. There are people I love that will depart from me, whether it be by choice or the natural course of life and death. There is nothing for me to hold onto here, nothing that will fully satisfy me or answer the question, “Why am I here?”

The comfort is that I have been created, and just as I have no understanding of the moon, the ocean, algebra, and philosophy, the fact is that each created thing has a purpose in its world, and I, too, have purpose. Just because I cannot see or comprehend this purpose doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. Just as God has created the moon, the ocean, mathematics, and philosophy for its purposes, God has created me with my own. If God has declared the things He has created as valuable, then it is so. Whether the creation can see or understand or agree with its value doesn’t change its worth or purpose. 

I have determined that all I can do in my limited understanding is do the tasks in front of me well, doing my best to do what God has asked me to do with the understanding that He assigns those things their value and worth. Whether I see their value or not is irrelevant; God has already determined that everything in His creation has purpose, and there is nothing in my limited logic and analysis that can overrule this reality.

If God has given me today, then both this day and me are valuable. 

-Morning journal entry  

[deidreadewitt]

Creating is the best way to connect back to your soul. School systems teach us to work long hours from cookie-cutter to-do lists with homework that connects us to facts but not ourselves. Then we move onto jobs that pay for groceries, but not for the hunger of life we have deep in us.

No one can care for your soul but you. God will quench your thirst, but you have to hand over the water bottle. I hope you do, so you can see how the Creator creates all of us to create, in different and amazing ways.

So find time to draw, sew, sing, write, sculpt, dance, cook, play, build, design, act, and whatever else heals you. Don’t trade you soul for an empty paycheck. Work, create, play, admire, dream, repeat.

[deidreadewitt]

When a man loses his peace, it is an awful proof that he has lost something else that he has given way to evil, and grieved the Spirit of God.

Adam Clarke (Bible Commentary, Colossians Ch 3)

[deidreadewitt]

Temporary

Don't turn towards permanent solutions for temporary problems. Remember that many problems - even the overwhelming ones - are mostly temporary, and won't exist a year from now.

And for those problems that are permanent - ones that are not so much problems, but instead, tragedies - the pain of those problems will fade over time. Not because the tragedy is less tragic, but because you'll be able to see value in life more clearly as time goes on.

Life is a balance of suffering and joy, loss and gain, tragedy and victory. But none of these things are permanent. Allow yourself to struggle through them, enjoy them, or use them for your greater purpose.

Death cannot be reversed. Neither can life. Treasure the latter, because the former will come for all of us, regardless.

The sun will rise again tomorrow. Keep going.

[deidreadewitt]

If knowing is care at its core, caring leads to knowing. To know is to love; to love will be to know.

Esther Meek

[deidreadewitt]

You cannot love yourself without loving God first.

Because once you love God properly - truly, not out of ritual or expectation, but out of real gratitude and affection - you start to fully understand your limitations and faults in a way that doesn’t result in self-loathing, but in a way that reveals the providence and grace of God despite those faults and limitations you berate yourself for.

When you recognize God's grace given to you, you can start giving that grace to others and yourself. This grace recognizes that love exists even in imperfection - that love is about the giver of it, not the target - and only then can you love yourself properly.

To endlessly praise yourself in the attempt to self-love is empty and hollow, and you feel it every time you try. Recognizing the full love of God and the His extention of love to us is a far greater, more endless thing to be praised, and never leaves us with that hollow feeling that the fragile praise we give ourselves does; that empty, greedy praise that is as limited as we are.

To love God is the only way to love ourselves, because in our weakest moments, we still can respect ourselves as the image-bearers of God, and more importantly, show reverence for the love God has given humanity.

Journal, 6.2.22