Homesick for Eden

In one of the more obscure corners of Brooklyn
Rests the neighborhood
I grew up in. 
For most of my life
I lived there,
Soaking in the spring green
Of the backweeds,
Breathing in the sea spray
Of the salt marsh. 
A family errand 
Brings me here this morning,
And as I walk along the one main avenue,
I am curiously homesick. 

A flood of memories assault me,
Most of them fraught and troubled. 
What, exactly, am I homesick for?
I ponder, and wonder, and remember...

When I was eight,
Our parents bought a summer home,
Tucked away in a quiet valley
In Sullivan County. 
I close my eyes and see
My eight-year-old self
Climbing trees...
Picking up rocks...
Catching grasshoppers with my bare hands...
On Erin and Laura's swings, to see who could go highest...
Watching squirrels zip through the trees...
And staring at the night sky, losing myself 
In the majestic, starry view
That the city's streetlamps conceal.
It is hard for me to recapture
The wistfulness I used to feel,
But whenever I visit the house,
A familiar pang hits me. 
What is it, if not homesickness for this time and space
Of my youth? 

I have been drawn 
To oases of natural beauty
My whole life. 
I decided on a high school in the Rockaways
After standing on the boardwalk
And surveying the mighty Atlantic. 
I decided on a college that resided
On one of the greenest blocks in Brooklyn. 
I stare at trees, and flowers, and oceans, and mountains, and hills, and stars, and creatures
With all the intensity and longing
Of someone waiting for their beloved to return from war,
Waiting for that initial embrace that declares,
"Here I am, and your place is with me." 
But what is the nameless, faceless Home
I ache for?

Ah, My Lord,
I am not a creature meant to live and work 
In structures of brick and mortar, concrete and steel.
I yearn for Eden...
I long to walk in a Garden with You,
And talk with You as easily as
A daughter to a loving father. 
I long to feel grass beneath my feet,
And feel dew on my resurrection body,
And hear all creation
Sing Your praises. 

Father...
How much longer
Until you redeem
This flawed, broken creation,
This realm that only dimly mirrors
The wonders of Your Glory?...