Tag / waiting

by bcmiller2014

Patience

I wait, as we do, quite
often. I wait for my husband 
as he bounces around the 
city finding rugs and 
furnishings and bits of 
paper with pictures most
have never seen to make 
a stranger’s walls look
personal. I wait 
for the home where I can
see a tree instead of a 
crane, both making homes 
but one giving breath, as
well. I wait for dreams of 
expressing my self, and I wait 
for solid funding. I wait for
physical love. I wait for 
understanding and for 
things I don’t even know 
I need to ease my inward 
groaning because
there never isn’t groaning,
even if it’s only released 
through the soles of my 
feet. I wait to find out if you
love me. I wait to find out if
I love me. I wait and I 
think and I wonder if ever 
the waiting will end because
at some fantastic and 
mystical point I will finally
rest in knowing the who I 
am in me and you. 

by bcmiller2014

Waiting

Waiting is a branch from a 
fallen tree, the air in Georgia in
August, a bronze statue of a 
dog with his tongue hanging
out. It is silent. It doesn’t sit and
hum in the lobby, feet kicking
back and forth under a seat 
that’s too high. It can panic,
but never makes a scene. 

Waiting is going for a walk while
tests are being run. It’s talking 
with a therapist while it hails out-
side, inside where all the dreams
are, afraid of being killed. It’s 
paying $4.27 for a chamomile tea
with soy, because something warm
in February makes everything easier
to bear. 

Waiting builds muscles, enhances 
communication skills, forces re-
evaluation of all the whos and 
whats of identity, plans, and certainties. 
It shreds. It strains. It plants it’s feet
or lifts them up, allowing itself to
drift into the wide fog and accept
unknown destinations.