The Waiting

The Waiting

I guess I figured the dawn was nigh;
I thought this endless night was gone by;
I mistook my longing for hearing a reply,
but long is this night, and heavy the sigh.

I’m tired of this waiting – stuck on standby,
“I want out!” I scream through teary eye.
For each step forward takes all my try,
But long is the wait, and heavy the sigh.

I know someday I’ll be nimble and spry,
And on that day, I’ll feel like I’ve arrived,
And everyone’s doubts will surely belie,
But long is my wait, and heavy am I.

That Juneish freedom is my rallying cry.
Sweet images of glory fill my mind’s eye,
And my heart applauds in affirmative reply,
But long is this winter, and heavy my sighs.

Doomed to idle this road’s shoulder am I.
I hope, while pulled over, it will not dash by.
Impatience and expectation in oversupply,
But long is this route, and heavy the sigh.

“The clock is broken,” I try to imply –
Hands on the face we expect to fly.
I look upwards, and shaking fists, testify,
but long is the wait, and heavy the sigh.

We learn in sadness and in beauty, hereby:
Worthy the wait and useless the sigh.


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