The Unnamed Longing

I long for a song to still with its tongue

The restless void inside of me

But the sputter of rain on the dark window-pane

Increases my melancholy

I wish I could run in the pink April sun

Like I did when I was a wee girl

But a hint of gray has stolen away

The prisms of a stained-glass world

I clench the desire, but cannot quench the fire

Of yearning deep in my chest

For time is a dancer of mysterious answers

Burning in aggrandized quest

I wish I could find that place in my mind

Where wisdom and folly collide

Then I could adjust my vision of dust

And soft in life’s waiting abide

I cannot console the thirst in my soul

I’m prone to the wanderings of man

But I have one hope, for when I cannot cope

I call out to God and He can

© Janet Martin