I didn’t write these words to impress anyone, I wrote them to survive. This book wasn’t written in comfort. It wasn’t crafted in a peaceful season. Every word came from the fire. From the panic attacks, the heartbreak, the sleepless nights, and the moments I didn’t think I’d make it to tomorrow. Letters from the Fire is exactly what it sounds like, letters written in the heat of pain, but lit with hope. I’m not a pastor. I’m not a preacher. I’m not here to give you a sermon. I’m just a man who met Jesus in the dark and walked out with a pen in my hand and light in my chest. These poems were born out of depression, anxiety, PTSD, heartbreak, and the deep ache of feeling unseen. They come from the silent suffering no one sees, the prayers whispered through tears, and the days you wake up wondering if you’ll ever feel whole again. But this isn’t a book about staying broken. This is a book about healing. About redemption. About how God met me when I was ready to give up—and handed me purpose instead. Through Christ, I found hope again. Through the fire, I found my voice. Every page of this book is honest. Raw. Unfiltered. You won’t find fake smiles or sugarcoated faith here. But you will find truth. You will find light. You will find grace in the middle of the grief. These poems are my scars, but they’re also my testimony. This collection is for the ones who feel forgotten. The ones who serve in silence. The ones who cry behind the scenes and keep showing up anyway. It’s for the correctional officers, the nurses, the single parents, the veterans, the teachers, the addicts in recovery, the ones wrestling with shame, and the ones who wonder if God’s still listening. It’s for you. I wrote this for the moments you don’t have words. For the nights you need a reminder that you’re not alone. For the mornings when you’re still here—and that’s a miracle in itself. You are not too far gone. You are not beyond repair. You are not forgotten. And you are not alone. God is still writing your story. This book isn’t just poetry—it’s a lifeline. A flashlight in the dark. A reminder that the fire didn’t destroy you—it refined you. That your pain has purpose. That the same Jesus who met me in the mess is ready to meet you in yours. So if you’ve been holding it all together on the outside while falling apart on the inside… If you’ve been praying for a sign… If you’ve been looking for hope and wondering if healing is even possible… Let this be your sign. Let this be your reminder. There’s beauty—even here. Even now. There’s redemption. There’s grace. There’s another chapter. And sometimes, all it takes to find it… is turning the page. “Come to Me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” - Matthew 11:28 (NKJV)