Calling To My Soul

I feel cooped up,
like I’m wearing chains
around my ankles.

There’s something in me
begging for more—
a quiet ache
for freedom,
for adventure.

For a story
that pulls me under,
that reminds me
there is so much more.

The rocks beneath my bare feet.
The sun finally touching my skin
after a long, cold winter.

The waves of an endless sea
rushing up to say hello.

The touch of a man
who’s testing the waters—
soft, unsure,
like he’s listening for permission.

The movement of the universe
as you beg God for a sign.

I long to be swept off my feet,
to feel high
on a love
that isn’t fleeting.

A love that stays.
A love that welcomes the hard parts,
because it knows
they matter—
because it knows
what’s waiting around the corner
will be worth it.

Bring me to a space of joy
that dances
in a field of wheat—
where nobody exists,
but the music does.

The strum of a guitar
played by the hands
of a lonely traveler.

The distant drum
that reminds us
we need a little thunder.

The whisper that says,
“I want you,”
and the kiss
that proves it.

The beams of golden hour
through the branches of a willow tree,
tucking itself in
as it welcomes the moon.

The stillness of the world
after an unwelcome storm.

I long for words
that are deep
and thoughtful
and honest.

These are the things
calling to my soul.