Waiting
“It is
difficult to accept that politics, like history itself,
Is a
never-ending process in which nothing is ever definitely over.”
Paris, October 27, 1992
At one end of the great
wide spectrum
Some waited for
Godot,
As their saving
welcome
To freedom from
bondage, at minimum a furlough.
This kind of
continual waiting
In bondage one
learns to cope.
But the idea of
Godot is baiting
A falsehood
killing hope.
The opposite end
of the spectrum
Lives a waiting of
another kind.
It is a longing
and vocation that beckons
The practice of
patience in the heart and mind.
Certain types of
waiting have no meaning,
Those of
hopelessness and personal inaction
Plant nothing but
false leaning,
Wishing for some
reversing traction.
The breadth of
life requires understanding,
World, Being, and
History move on their own.
Impatience makes
no mark on their processes,
Patient waiting slowly
tarries, sometimes with a groan.
Rational plans
move forward
Envision Utopia, a
well-documented plan.
Enlightenment
thought notwithstanding,
Incapable of controlling
and to fully understand.
The art of patient
waiting is something to be learned,
Like sowing a seed
and watering the land.
There is nothing that impatience could turn
Life’s processes rapidly
around and as grand.
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