Room for Waiting

I have always been
A misplaced girl.
I struggle to know
My place in this world.
I spend so much of me
On other people’s kingdoms.
If I have unique contributions,
I don’t see that I bring them.
I stack tasks and days,
Toiling for my daily bread,
I long for some way to be
Free and freely Spirit-led.
I ache for the quiet, simpler days
Nurturing my little foals,
The time in absence erodes me,
Leaving behind a brittle soul.
I now hide the truest parts of me
After the gauntlet and the ice.
I yearn to return to who I was
Before brutality and lies.
Instead I march onward
Waiting for the change to bloom,
Waiting for the end of waiting,
Waiting for life to resume.

Working at the Waiting.