raising redheads

There is something growing inside of me.

Deep in the belly of my existence.

This unquenchable thirst for you, O God.

This unchanging, desperate longing for the authenticity of who you are.

I will never catch my footing; clumsily trying to reach you.

Somewhere in the midst of the extraordinary and the every day you are hidden

And you well up a hunger so desperate

for more of you.

It's almost painful.

Searching and scanning the normalcy of my day

with interactions, glances and familiarity.

Yet it is all ordinary.

There is very little of this remarkable fight for you

in the faces of the simple

Hear my cry O Lord.

Pleading from the flesh of this being and deeper still

To the core of my created image;

I cling to the ribs of my frame and beg for mercy

As if this will be sufficient to the creator of the details

Never do I want this hunger to be satisfied.

Thirsting for you means I am alive; I am seeking depth.

Timid moments in the quiet with you

I will always need this deliverance.

This complexity and depth in my gut is wrenching.

Longing for you, sweet Lord.