Growing pains

It's been a long time since I've desired to write poetry. This morning I received this quote from a dear friend:

"Joy in God is a way of living out and finding ever richer ways of being in communion with others, within the demands of concrete and changing situations and ecologies of relationship. It is surely joy in God, but it is also joy in oneself, in others, in the world. Joy as intensification of one's being in communion spills over into, and is experienced in, every relationship. It is the mode of participation in delight in the abundance of God for the world." ~McFayden "Bound to Sin"

It was this quote that seemed to trigger an all too familiar sense of loss coupled with longing this morning. And so on this day, poetry is all that can come forth.

It is that familiar pain,
sensation, faint murmur
the kind of thing that one
can only feel when at first
she acknowledges its existence
but in this she allows
the sensation, the longing
to morph from abstraction
to the reality of form
it crawls from the belly
up into the chest cavity
and clenches, then softens
then clenches again
let go, she pleads,
all the while knowing
it is impossible to escape
this now named longing
it is associated, attached
to their faces, their names,
their stories, their touch
which unleashed freedom,
delivered mercy,
birthed life in abundance
it has maneuvered its way
through her whole being
this sense of loss
and longing mixed up
with disarming gratitude
She looks all around
for something to soothe
this combination
of joy and sorrow
but it seems futile
for she is now alone,
all alone.
Alone.
Left to sit
with the memories,
the chorus of their voices
as they speak life into
her lonely soul.