Why does heaven feel closer

in the woods?

I ask that

as if I do not know the answer.

Maybe I simply want to tell myself why.

The sky is closer

up here in this tree,

and the forest is where I pour myself out,

always hoping,

always asking

to be filled back up—

but not with what I had before. Never

what I had before.

God, fill me with a need for You,

desire for You,

one I cannot shake from my soul

like yesterday’s idols.

Keep me clinging.

Tighten my grip.

Love me enough to keep me moving,

keep me growing,

even with all the broken yesterdays.

Yes, they tell how far I wandered, but today is today—

and today I am clinging,

today I am gripping,

today I am close.

Because in these woods, heaven is mine.

I can carry this forest with me,

its song-filled wind fueling my lungs

and exhaling everything I once was.

In these woods, today is mine.

Today I can plant a flower on the page and in my soul,

and the forest that held my secrets

has become my safe haven.

I don’t need to ask

why heaven feels closer in these woods.

God is here.

No, scratch that—

my God is here.

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