Heart, Why Are You So Restless?
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We all carry a bucket list—
a city to wander,
a country to claim,
a postcard sky to stand beneath someday.
But when the dust of the world settles,
when the noise of planes and passports fades,
Ask yourself —
what is the best place to be?
And your heart will whisper back:
Not in Paris.
Not in Maldives.
Not even in the tallest mountain sunrise.
But in the soft, invisible corner of someone’s prayer.
Because prayers are homes without walls.
They don’t crumble when economies fall.
They don’t wrinkle with age.
They don’t rust with time.
They simply hold you—
quietly, endlessly,
without asking rent, without asking why.
Imagine declaring it aloud,
as boldly as a passport stamp,
as if it were your true address:
“I live in my mother’s prayer.
I walk in my friend’s blessing.
I wake in the quiet remembrance
of someone who refuses to forget me.”
What a destination.
What a shelter.
What a heaven to belong to.
No storm can take you away from it..
No distance can erase it.
Not even death can lock it away.
Because the geography of love
is not drawn on maps,
but in folded hands.
And the truest homes
are not built with bricks,
but with whispers that carry your name to heaven.
So if you ask me where I live,
I won’t name a street or a place.
I’ll just whisper—
“I live in hearts.
I live in prayers.”
To be in someone’s heart is love.
To be in someone’s prayer is heaven.
A poet, author, and faith writer who believes words can heal what silence hides. My poetry collections — Inked Emotions, Scattered Feelings Stitched in Ink, and Love Beyond Loss — were born out of seasons of grief, solitude, and deep reflection.
Here on Catholic365, I’ve been humbled to share reflections that have reached hundreds of readers. I write not from a place of perfection, but from a longing to make sense of love, loss, and the quiet ways God speaks into our lives.
Whether it’s a poem, a story, or a small reflection, my hope is that you feel seen, encouraged, and gently reminded that faith isn’t always loud — sometimes it’s found in the waiting, the falling, the starting again.
You can find more of my work at https://about.me/anniedcosta
