In Real Time
01 August 2003

disappear into months.

I’d like to wait for you
like a child for her parent
like a lover at the airport
like an old man for his family
after a long parting

with joy, excitement
knowing you will soon be here
and with you the sun
after a long winter

But more often I’m like
the commuter at the station
the parent at the school gate
the patient in the waiting room
which is running late

fed up, impatient
doubtful if you’ll make it
and not quite sure
the waiting’s worth it

Time doesn’t hang about
these days; days full of doing
disappear into months.
Prayer slows it to true pace,
lets me breathe and be,
to find you in the waiting,
as well as the receiving.

© Mary Lean

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