kyndallrae

creating me [using words]

Waiting Long

this finger-drumming-the-tabletop life
I try to jolt forward, am halted
invisible door swings shut
I hear its hinges creaking to me
I wonder if I am supposed to push
but something tells me no:            wait
I think up tens of ways to get
where I’m going but every route
crosses my soul unfavorably
so I plop meditatively on the ground
but I am grumpy there, antsy
restless reclining, I try to inhale
the peace of sitting still, sometimes
it works for a moment
I see the future world and I can
wait for it like a Christmas gift,
no, I am too impatient, too worried
I’ll wake up one morning to empty
wrapping paper strewn across the floor
of my life, wads of disappointed dreams
Give it to me now, all of it!
Damn I sound like Veruca Salt,
I meant to say, I will wait sweetly, good sir,
(but only if it gets me what I want)
Darn, that still isn’t surrender
All this raging want, am I being purged
or imprisoned? Can never tell
whether I am stuck or finding
freedom. The fight and the funk
so close together don’t know which one
I am in. Also, does God with a big stick
dangle desires like a carrot to teach
detachment? Does God like a doting
granny give gifts just ‘cause? Does God
care about this war in me at all
or is it insignificant and petty? Does God
love the minutia of my life the
way my mom does? Is it hard for God
to keep my surprises secret?
Is he dying to tell me? Will trust feel
good, like faith rising? Does it require
anticipation dying? Surely my dreams
can still grow wild. Surely.

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4 thoughts on “Waiting Long

  1. Hope Mustakim on said:

    (Sorry for re-posting. Not sure if my first post went through!)
    Thank you for this poem!! You’ve so eloquently articulated exactly how I’ve felt over the past 7 months. It is a blessing to know that we are not alone. =)

  2. Anonymous on said:

    Thank-you.

  3. Anonymous on said:

    Thanks.

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