Is beating.
Is longing.
Is pleading.
Is calling out.
Is crying deep inside.
Is dancing with joy.
Is wishing to be free.
Is being held.
Is sealed.
Is not my own.
Is given away.
Is safe.
Is dying.
Is in my King's hands.
This is a poem I wrote (please grant me grace, I know I'm no poet) at the end of my senior year of high school when I was going through some minor problems with my physical heart, and dealing with the realization that my closest friends from high school would be leaving (as I would) in a few short months for college. Nine months later, it still manages to capture what I'm feeling.
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