it's just out of reach
like a high shelved snow globe at Christmas
and Daddy's out of change in his corduroys
this seven years of daydreaming
but there's that lonely line on a stick
stood up by his prideful paralleled companion
once every 28 days
and every tick of that biological clock
avoid the TV- Johnson & Johnson is waiting
Stay home from the box stores, their not gift-wrapped
that big-bellied woman with a grin on her face
or the dark-eyed teen wondering "why me"
the stroller wheels that turn my way
and I lock eyes with their wide-eyed passenger
fingers in his mouth, beaming the breath out of me
all casually stroll by tearing off a scab
there's not enough time for scars
when you're surrounded
So I stop in this Gerber, Maternity torture Circus
and look up to lock eyes with You
hoping you'll beam this dream right out of me
But it all keeps spinning in the periphery
You give me Your Son
I'll give You mine.
Over and over again.
"Listen, God! Please, pay attention! Can you make sense of these ramblings, my groans and cries? King-God, I need your help.
Every morning
you'll hear me at it again.
Every morning
I lay out the pieces of my life
on your altar
and watch for fire to descend." Psalm 5:1-3 (Msg)
"Prayer is the lifting of our hearts and minds to God.
For no matter what we're saying, we're asking,"Do you love me?"
And no matter how He answers, He's saying, "Yes, I do."
Mother Angelica
