Thoughts tamped down,

but pushing up

and swirling in a tunnel;

Restless pacing but nowhere to go

Wandering in a wilderness

pregnant with a message.

Congregation: one

No one else hears

No one else knows.

When I go in labor,

will there be no room for me in the inn?

I will give my baby all I have,

though it’s not much.

Perhaps her love will lead me to the place

I’ve been searching for my whole life;

The place where stars don’t scatter

and trees have deep roots,

where change means evolution,

where I’m done searching

and finally find my way home.

© D.L. Lunsford