I’m Not Waiting Any Longer

And I sit there on the floor

Legs not crossed like a lady

But crossed like I’m four again

Sitting at school on the carpet

Waiting for the teacher to explain.

 

Okay, I’m ready.

For you to let down your wisdom

Breathe the secret into my ear

Pull back the curtain

Ignite the barren emptiness

Of not knowing

 

Only

I sit there, on the floor

Waiting

Rubbernecking like nobody’s business

Wholeheartedly believing

Now I’ll understand

Now it’ll all make sense

I’ll get it

Understand

I’ll know what this life is all about

What I’ve been missing

 

I’ve lived into my how-to manual

People will come rushing through the terminals

Hard earned years of enlightenment

They’ll bustle in their hurried fever

Of needing to get on with their lives

Because they have so much to live

What, with all that understanding

Due to age…

 

Only

I sit there, on the floor

Realizing the room is empty

It’s a stage with polished floors

And vaulted ceilings

Rows and rows of chairs

The nice cushy ones you might’ve fought your grandpa for

When you were four years old

 

I look around and see

The lights are off

I’m the only one on the stage

The crowd is empty

Those nice soft seats, void of any life

Any know-how to impart

 

That’s the first lesson I really learned

About everyone else,

Outside of my skin.

It didn’t knock off any innocence

I wasn’t shiny or brand new by then

That got rubbed off before I could speak

But I’d kept some silly hope that when you said

“When you’re older you’ll understand”

…that you spoke the truth.

 

You did not.

The truth is

No one knows.

 

I found this out, sitting cross-legged

Like a child

Vibrating with enthusiasm

And excitement

Ready to warm my hands

At the fire of everyone’s experience

 

With the heat of age

That’d crept into my body

That everyone told me, made me

Better, somehow

Like numbers of lived life

Ups your worth in some cosmic game

And so you earn more lives

And redeemable information to trade

For a bunch of useless tasks, you performed…because….

 

Still sitting on an empty floor

Holding a ticket that leads nowhere.

 

By Daphne Shadows

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Photo is property of Daphne Shadows

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Time

Time passes in an odd way.

We think we’ve got everything figured out and then it all crumbles under the weight of quick breaths, strangled emotions, and not enough…. wait…

I think we’ve got it backward. Jumbled. Mixed up. We’re desperately grasping for threads as we sit upon a bed of yarn.

Time isn’t moments ticking by.

Time is patient. It is the same yesterday, today, and tomorrow. It breathes deep. Caresses the mourning with pain and love too poignant to articulate. Welcomes the sunrise and stands in awe of the majesty of the forest and brooks and antlers brushing against the leaves, lifting tawny head to the rays blossoming into the sky. It sighs as we rush, hurry, think ourselves into disarray and hectic misery.

Time understands that we cannot force anything, anyone.

Holds our hand as we bite our lip and hold the tears in. Smiles against our eyelashes as we all but burst with the succulent blooming of spend your life with me.

Time imbues our veins with the thrill of success, passion that ignites drive, and the simple ecstasy of a life being lived in the right direction.

Learning from the past. Planning for the future. Dreaming. Hoping. Yearning. Yet time is ever aware. Here. Now. Breathing in. Breathing out. Waiting is not a pause. Though sometimes we need both.

Time rejoices at the birth of all life, ideas, love. Sorrows at the loss, the end, the dying. Comforts, revitalizes through the rebirth.

Time is whatever we make of it. Quite literally. Paradoxically, we can never change time. Never go back. Redo. We can start again, fresh.

Time is joy. Time is loss. Time is depth and scratching the surface. Waiting through the pain until we feel we might go mad from atrophy, the dismal slide into entropy. Running in the rain, splashing through the built-up water in the cavities of life until our socks are soaked and our laughter and tears mix in a bursting of something our chest cannot hold. Time is happily not knowing what lurks around the corner. Fear of possible pain. Fear that tomorrow will be precisely as today is.

Time is hope. There is always enough. It is we who must wait. Time cannot.