May 2020
Your voice haunts me.
My aching for you is like a hint of perfume on a stranger's neck that sends me -for a moment- back to childhood to my mother's arms, her humming in my hair -
a half-remembered dream slipping through the window into the night.
Will I ever know the taste of the air? I imagine it tastes like honeysuckle and laughter.
Will I ever dip my feet into your star-drenched skies?
Will I ever watch the sun setting to the sound of cicadas singing their wild hymns?
Will I ever wake to mornings heavy-laden with mist clinging to the pines, dense and fragrant?
Will my feet ever wear the mountain paths in prayer and wonder?
Will I ever call you home?
---
Thank you so much for reading.
My aching for you is like a hint of perfume on a stranger's neck that sends me -for a moment- back to childhood to my mother's arms, her humming in my hair -
a half-remembered dream slipping through the window into the night.
Will I ever know the taste of the air? I imagine it tastes like honeysuckle and laughter.
Will I ever dip my feet into your star-drenched skies?
Will I ever watch the sun setting to the sound of cicadas singing their wild hymns?
Will I ever wake to mornings heavy-laden with mist clinging to the pines, dense and fragrant?
Will my feet ever wear the mountain paths in prayer and wonder?
Will I ever call you home?
---
Thank you so much for reading.
**I’m staying at my fathers house in Ohio right now and dreaming of moving to NC. I’m tempted every day to pack my things and start driving. But there’s a right season for everything and I know it’s wise to wait. But God my heart is screaming for a new life.
