|the great wait-er|
for the kids to get
home from school so you can
ask about their day, satisfied
they’re happy as they were when
they left you this morning.
You wait for water to boil and cuts
to heal, words you can’t take back
(though you wish) they would
disappear forever, no
You wait for normalcy and
equilibrium; homeostasis, is it called?
you wait for test results, pretending
you’re not waiting by doing,
every gesture a distraction
like stuffing down food or hastily cleaning shelves and closets, the garage.
Your stomach tightens when you wait.
It’s hard to breathe, and your palms
get sweaty or you feel a boiling
irritation about to erupt
You are so damn bored, waiting
for babies to be born, for
snow and ice to melt and darkness to lift
you float in suspended animation, where
it feels like nothing’s happening.
You know in your heart true cultivation takes time
that you have to wait for seed to break soil and
wounds to mend, love to grow
you have to wait for these things
in the absence of urgency, noting
there is nothing you must do
nothing you can do to
push the river, but wait.
But you are impatient by nature, you are a “doer”
You meditate every day
for years and years and still
You loathe waiting
for the world to roll in at your feet.
You hope every day to
to let things happen, let them be.
You banish from your vocabulary “I can’t wait”
because you know there is danger there
in the greatest of sins, grasping
The day won’t come too soon (see?)
maybe with enough faith and hard-earned patience
one day you’ll know, maybe
one day you’ll know
You can wait.