Waiting

Time and its observance,
	doesn’t seem to matter anymore
	in other than its passing.
The days come and go
	sometimes quick, sometimes slow
	passing with little effort other than the change in weather.
Warm, soft, spring mornings give easy passage
	to gentle, calm, hot summers
        now open to an exceptional but early autumn.
Time full of cool winds and brisk, sudden chills
	sudden downpours and vibrant changing colors.

Gray skies of constant flowing white and dark clouds
	open to scary, ominous dark cloud cover
	cutting off the patch of brilliant blues.
The eye of God watches
	in between the breezes and gusts,
	comes a long, silent lull
where God is listening
	to his creation praying,
        waiting here, below.
In my own stillness
	I perceive that I go unnoticed.

This body occupying space and time
	lingering in the shadows of nameless faces that pass
	hurriedly on their way elsewhere.
I am content with that,
	satisfied that I do not draw any attention
        or cause distraction.
The quiet surrounding me hovers in place, strains my ears
	but keeps me listening in wait
	for the very voice of God.
I utter prayers and supplications
	that I am quiet enough to hear.

If it comes on the wind
	here I wait, 
        fighting against the threatening storm
holding steady to hear the message
        to know where and when to return
        to the great unknown.

Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.

Please Login to post a comment

A comment has not been posted for this poem. Encourage a poet by being the first to comment.