Today, my heart aches

amid my thoughts of thanks. Thirst

for rest and relationship

drains me dry --

my thoughts are needle pricks

that pick my threads of gratitude

until I begin to unravel.

Hope, you are the theme.

I bow my head

to your high ways. You

say yes when I feel maybe.

You say wait when I feel weep.

You say rest when I feel struggle.

You know the hands that hold you

when I am blind.

I ache. But.

But know that aches speak

of remedies.

That longings speak

of fulfillment. That yesterday's joy

affirms the joy to come.

Unravelled. Aching: I hope.