One of my favorite bloggers, Lisa-Jo Baker, gave this prompt last week, and I jotted the following poem down in ragged spare minutes that never unfolded into enough time to actually post. Usually, she gives the 1-word prompt late Thursday night, and a community of bloggers around the globe take 5 minutes to simply write--no editing or re-thinking allowed! Then we post our links and leave encouragement on each other's blogs.
I'm too late to join the party this week, so this one almost stayed in the draft pile, but my hubby encouraged me to publish it anyway.
I remembered truth as I wrote. I remembered that this--the universal longing for belonging--is an ache whose remedy was costly, but was given freely. We can rest here.
Prompt: Belong
We ache and we long
to belong.
Every middle-aged teen
and geriatric child
and stodge-faced youth
will understand.
Long after parents
are gone
is the ache to be welcomed,
havened,
cuddled close and long
and told
You are mine.
We ache and we long
to be loved.
Every Joe-Doe-Blow,
perfectionista,
and black-faced sheep
will understand.
And when the shape of it
unclouds,
it's the want to be seen,
admired,
heard deep, understood
and told
You have worth.
He aches and He longs
to gather us.
He rises with compassion
to show.
It throbs deep
and pours out red
with costly welcome
for every middle-aged teen
geriatric child
stodgy youth
Joe-Doe-Blow
perfectionista
and black-faced sheep.
You are mine.
I gave you worth.
I'm too late to join the party this week, so this one almost stayed in the draft pile, but my hubby encouraged me to publish it anyway.
I remembered truth as I wrote. I remembered that this--the universal longing for belonging--is an ache whose remedy was costly, but was given freely. We can rest here.
Prompt: Belong
We ache and we long
to belong.
Every middle-aged teen
and geriatric child
and stodge-faced youth
will understand.
Long after parents
are gone
is the ache to be welcomed,
havened,
cuddled close and long
and told
You are mine.
We ache and we long
to be loved.
Every Joe-Doe-Blow,
perfectionista,
and black-faced sheep
will understand.
And when the shape of it
unclouds,
it's the want to be seen,
admired,
heard deep, understood
and told
You have worth.
He aches and He longs
to gather us.
He rises with compassion
to show.
It throbs deep
and pours out red
with costly welcome
for every middle-aged teen
geriatric child
stodgy youth
Joe-Doe-Blow
perfectionista
and black-faced sheep.
You are mine.
I gave you worth.
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