Waiting
I wait quietly
Waiting for the words to flow
They come in stops and starts
No connection
I am aware the room is hot
Too hot
Turn down the thermostat
Open the door
Fresh air rushes in
Brings new thoughts
Hard to see the forest for the trees
Sometimes we are so focused on one thing
Impossible to see anything else
Even when it is right before us
You say, maybe it isn’t “right,”
But offer no alternative
One is left uncertain
The path ahead is the only road visible
There may be other ways
But the path is overgrown
Brambles block the way
…Still I wait
February 5, 2019
10 comments:
I love "the path ahead is the only road visible." It unfolds under our feet.
I love the fresh air rushing into that hot room. I like that path ahead is the only road visible. Yes.
Life can living can become so blindly, if we don't look beyond what's there. Focusing on the little things--what affects us immediately, the wall in front of us, the tree blocking our view of the forest--can really keep us from discovery. Sometimes, it's nice (and effective) to stand still for a bit, to look around in new ways... until we can see/move ahead with purpose.
Waiting for the right words while missing the forest for the trees... been there.. am there. Totally resonates.
That speaks so well of writing poetry, brambles and windows, start from where we are. When I can't seem to write, I write about what it feels like not to be writing.
Reminds me of a cartoon showing two buzzards on a wire watching a man in the desert crawling desparately trying to get to water. One buzzard told the other, "Patience, hell, let's kill the b**rd." That's the way I was also, just post it. Or nothing.
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Ah, there is such wisdom in your words. I am left wondering over this bit: "Hard to see the forest for the trees/Sometimes we are so focused on one thing".
Hot rooms give me the blues Annell. I can think in a hot room, much less create. People envourage and nuture colds with hot rooms. But good news, you crafted a fine poem here - despite the heat!
This is a palpable capture of a moment, Annell, and I’m there, waiting with you, feeling the heat and the rush of fresh air. I love the metaphor of the brambles blocking the way.
I seem to spend far too much time waiting...
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