My Longings

My whole being seems to be shouting,
Screaming for home.

My feet tread on foreign soil daily,
And my head rests on a pillow of discontentment

I'm hungry, I'm thirsty, I devour the
Words of my God.

Still I'm ravenous.
I follow the Man Jesus as He walks
along distant shores, time and space irrelevant.

His most simple acts become beautiful, intricate dances.
I'm enthralled.

I search within that I might have
something to give that's worthy of His love.

Nothing.
Still I give.

Clumsily I worship, and I'm honored,
adored, PRIZED.
I'm bowed low.


Christy Burns