I wait in a queue at the store to pay for my basket of groceries
and I wait for swallowed painkillers to ease my headache
I pour all my feelings into quietly waiting
my toes touching a stone-cold threshold
I am committed to waiting
to being in-between
to being neither one thing nor another
I wait for the inevitable
I wait for the government of the moment to defeat the latest enemy
I wait to pay my taxes
I choose to wait
I believe completely in the wait and in its rightness
I believe so hard I tremble all over
listening and watching
focused utterly on the waiting
I lean into the wait and I almost topple over
I wait for surgeons to finish mending injuries
I wait for peacemakers to finish negotiating
other people call on the phone to say sorry
they can’t help
they’re caught in nets and rigging
they’re being held hostage
but it’s okay
I tell them
the waiting is wholly mine
and I’ve noticed
I have slowly
very slowly
through all my waiting
acquired the look of a century-old weathered gravestone
