This is a poem I wrote about a time a few years ago when I felt lost and stuck and yearning for something I couldn't articulate. I wrote this with the story of the Exodus and the desert wanderings in mind. However, it also seems uncannily apt in this season of Advent - as we reflect on Mary, pregnant with Jesus - the incarnate creator of the world coming to us full of hope and the fulfillment of promise.
Perhaps this helps you, or inspires you to reflect on your own season of patience in the season of 'pregnancy'.
yearning for what is unseen, unspoken
dreams and promises unformed but broken
hands full of the undesired
provision received, enjoyed, expired
close? or lost?
a word, heard
timely, slow yet fast
a giver of kindness
a will lost to find his