Waiting

Waiting / Joshua Alan Sturgill

I wake to my waiting
I eat from my waiting
I pray in my waiting
I work with my waiting

Waiting walks within me
Waiting sleeps in my chair
Waiting siphons my attention
Waiting hangs on my eyes

I did not know but felt it
Waiting is my skin
I did not know but tasted it
Waiting seasons my breath

You understand. You look
on the world with them
but where they see future
pleasures, you see waiting

Waiting, I wait for something
Waiting, I wait for Someone
Waiting, I outwait death
Waiting, I wait for a call — a click

of the lifted latch,
music of the swinging hinge.
Light unfolds with suddenness
and extends its invitation