Log0024

Wait

A wave of cars waiting,
Jousting for a park at the airport pickup.
I was waiting for my pregnant wife,
She’d been gone almost a month,
A month of waiting.

Inside, she watched the baggage carousel,
Waiting for a bag, a breath, a baby, a break.

Outside, a man had walked up to my window,
He looked down the line, waiting for his ride,
The lines on his face sat heavy,
With the weight of a lifetime of waiting.

Waiting, watching, wanting,
Why is this so much of life?

Arriving never seems to last,
Just existing as the brief liminal space,
between periods of waiting.