đź•Š In the House of Needing đź•Š
—voice of the Searching Soul
I opened every drawer, but none would clothe me—
Not satin, nor sorrow, nor garments of needing.
The feast lay waiting, but I turned from the table,
Chose famine again—its whisper deceived me.
I left the call unopened, the robe unclaimed.
I wept, but feared to wear the everlasting.
I trembled at the weight of the everlasting—
Thought it too holy, too burning to clothe me.
So I danced in rags in the house of needing,
Hungered by hungers that softly deceived me.
The table stood waiting, still I turned unclaimed,
Scattering joy as I fled from the table.
How often, children, I refused the table—
Turned from the light of the everlasting.
I lay with lies. Let silence deceive me.
Rifled through drawers that could never clothe me—
Reached for a touch to quiet the needing,
Yet fastened the lock and remained unclaimed.
Yet mercy, not wrath, kept me unclaimed.
It was mercy that held the place at the table
While I withered deeper into needing.
Still, I feared the robe of the everlasting—
Feared it would burn through the skin that clothed me
In pride, in famine, in the hush that deceived me.
Even the swine would not stoop to deceive me.
They knew their master. I remained unclaimed—
A prodigal drifting, unfit to be clothed.
Yet my nameplate endured at the Father’s table,
My ring, my robe, untouched—everlasting.
Still I wandered, still I fed on needing.
Children, beware the ache of needing
That names itself love. It will deceive you.
Only One speaks bread everlasting.
Only One calls the lost and unclaimed,
Sets a robe on their shoulders, clears the table,
And opens the drawer that was made to clothe me.
Let Him clothe me at last—end all needing.
Let Him call me from all that deceived me.
Let me feast unclaimed no more—at His table everlasting.
Written by Marguerite Grace
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verse, possies, sonnets, and short stories 