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Monday, January 23, 2012

Flying Home

When you have listened in the silence of your heart, have you ever heard the call to "come home"?  When I was first on the road back to God, I did, and I was in a place that caused me to assume "come home" meant I would die soon.  Now, I know better, for I know where home is.  My soul still longs for wholeness, for union, for completeness which will only be found in Him and with Him.  I have moments where I feel that unity, but they are fleeting and I continue to struggle, to search, to seek, to pray, to write: 

The January geese are flying.
Their V interrupting my quiet dawn
of still air and red sky.
As second prayers make their way
from Heaven to lips to air
all I can remember
is how God loves each soul into existence:
holding, rocking, breathing His essence
with each kiss;
marking all with a desire for a fullness
which can only be found in Him.
So I close my eyes
and open my soul to Heaven's voice
filled this winters' day
with the cry
of those flying
in restless migration.

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