Longing to Love

Some days I'm convinced that my arms are like winter branches
Not just cold, but craving what they have lost
Wishing that they could gather all of the buds and leaves and memories
of spring and summer and fall
breathing in the hope that change is coming
But the leaves always leave and the people do too
A string of goodbyes woven from heavy hands and wandering eyes
Winter always seems to come before my heart has gathered enough firewood to keep warm

The longer I run the more familiar my feet get with the dirt underneath them
But the more often they seem to trip on familiar roots
Sometimes remembering coincides with regretting and regressing
I wish there was a word in the English language for the feeling you get
when your whole heart aches as you sip tea and look back on a time
that gave you incredible joy
A word for the way your stomach clenches as your entire being yearns for yesterday
Or maybe just a word for running ahead while looking back and staying present
because I can never seem to juggle all three at the same time

Lately I've been finding grace in the smallest of places
In between pine needles and hang nails and crooked smiles
Sometimes I wish that my heart had hands
as a reminder that I need to give out as much as I take in
I tend to talk about the things I know best:
Jesus and music and tea and myself
But maybe if I started to talk about the things I know least
I could learn to learn more
There is a lot about this world that I am longing to understand
but maybe I should just be longing to love

It surprises me that I'm still surprised by cold winds and cold hearts
I think that He has been revealing Himself to me through goose bumps and held in breath
Reminding me that there will always be things in this world worth shivering over
But there will also be Light worth drawing near to
And we would never notice the Light without the darkness
Maybe one day I'll learn to warm my soul and my hands by the fire without
burning my knee caps
And maybe some day I'll learn to remember without
burning old photographs into my mind
And maybe then I'll come up with a word for training my lungs to breathe in the chill
while exhaling joy and love