Tired of Patience

I suppose it is not as beautiful anymore

When a worship as noble in stillness as it is in movement extends its wings

She is leaving me, but softly

So gently I might have not noticed she was here in the first place…

Behind her she has left blocks of lead

Heavy, dark, fatigued

There is stillness that remains

But it is a choking kind;

It wraps around the waist and neck weighing them onto the ground

Pebbles, the blocks crumble into

And my heart does not know a patience it thought it had

But they told me it is liberating, enthralling, nascent in a hope once found before

I can’t find it anywhere and my face is wet

Uncertainly of confounded tears and sweat

I am not waiting anymore I do not know how

I am tired

I am so tired

How does she return? How might she find you once more?

To remove the crumbles she left behind and pat me on the shoulder

With a smile,

“Your miracle is on its way,” she would say

“What’s a minute of waiting?”