In a day, we spend a lot of time waiting. Waiting for buses, waiting in traffic, waiting on others. And, sometimes, it feels like we are always waiting for love. We don’t know when it will arrive, if it will arrive, but we’re willing to have broken hearts and wait in cold train stations for it. Maybe it’s just me, but I’d wait for love because I know it’s worth it. Here’s a free verse poem, “Just a Bit Longer,” about waiting just a bit longer for love.
Just a Bit Longer
In the station,
where lives bustle between shoulders and borders,
I waited for you.
Somehow, our old promises of reconciliation
got lost in translation,
lost with the wrong people.
I was caught up in cycles of wrong loves that left me dizzy,
broken hearts that could barely beat above a murmur.
You were walking away from the ones who wounded you,
scars stretching across your hands,
tired of trying to save others from self-destruction.
Now, we were separated by feet instead of feats,
hands shaking, hearts racing.
We tried to practice patience,
because you were close in the ghost of smoke,
as I waited a bit longer by the platform.
By the tracks,
the steam and the metal and the noise that
filled the humming silence,
whistled a tune.
No longer a despairing ballad of being broken,
no longer a cry of anger from being abandoned,
it was a lullaby
to reunite lost lives scattered by distance and timing.
The beads in my pocket,
strung together with divine petition,
burned with our answered prayer
of being together.
I just needed to wait
a bit longer.
Beneath the bold “Central” sign,
the dark-coated people tripped
on broken bricks.
All rushing, talking, trying to find importance in being important.
I sat,
watching strangers unite in solidarity on a morning commute,
only to become forgotten faces and figures moments later.
The clock tower kept track of Time,
a face tattooed with numbers,
forever at the mercy of hands that don’t hesitate.
I was alone, aging and anticipation my only companions.
I longed for you,
but we had not been ready.
Mistakes had to make me break,
fall onto my knees so I could learn to stand.
But like the buzzing bulbs of the lights,
life is finite,
and my finale was with you,
contingent upon a conductor that made me wait
just a bit longer.
In the crowd,
blinded by deadlines and distractions,
you made your way down silver stairs
pushing through cold air and careless stares
once the train pulled in.
I stumbled over feet that couldn’t keep up,
running through the station.
As I neared, the smoke cleared,
and I knew that we were ready.
Face to face with forever after,
you caught my embrace.
The dark-coated people carried on,
and the clock kept counting,
yet we stood still in our frozen frame.
Searching in a sea of busy streets and busy lives.
We had found home in each other,
and there’s no place like home.
I hope that something good finds you. I hope that the wait for love or joy or peace isn’t long and that these feelings fill you often. The good things in life are worth waiting for. Promise.
Featured Image via Pexels
