Loneliness

(Originally written in 2017. Bravely published today).

Sometimes I am lonely and want to be alone to watch over my loneliness. I need to see its edges and go over its textures. I know that it is a loneliness not from here, not made from missing these worldly creatures. The ache is too deep and its cries are too strange to be answered by what lies under the covers in my children’s rooms, in my husband’s bed. I must gaze at the mountains. I must hear the bird’s entire song. I must hear the ending, the ending of his song! I must scan the lines of the white tree trunks for imperfections—and find none! I must search for the artist in his art. I must hear him, I must, I must. Oh, for the sound of his footsteps in the garden again! He is the one my heart longs for! He cannot be found— cannot even be missed well in this clouded, electric life. Unless one looks into one’s loneliness. Looks into one’s griefs. I pine, I pine for Him. For the secret places where He speaks. For the sound of His voice. I know what it is to be lonely. I will cling to my loneliness, for it holds the shape of Him. For now, it is all I have. Until he comes again. 

“Though you have not seen Him, yet you love Him.” 1 Peter 1:8