A Midwest Yearning

The pull across the way,
the contradiction I sit with,
the soul’s most describable feeling,
yearning

Its quiet counterpart defines the gift,
handed to us in the language of desire.

What would this world be
if we did not want constantly,
the opposite of what we have?

The numbing frost left in my lungs
has me wishing for its quiet counterpart,
yet the dryness of that scene
always returns me to the unbearable breath.

Some say this motion is rooted in thanklessness.

I say it proves our humanity.
Our hearts perform the tug,
the pursuit of anything but.
Seeking fulfillment,
we need this movement.

How else could I appreciate palm trees
if snow-covered grass hadn’t brushed my life just moments before?

Here, in the Midwest, we have everything.
The abundance isn’t found elsewhere,
only in the place that holds it all.

Where yearning is constant,
gratitude learns to stay.
Desire doesn’t dim the light,
it teaches us where to look.

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