Theloopylululog

And I wait…

In calm silences,

For old storms to abate.

In wild penances,

For new storms to obey.

*

And I wait…

In empty benches,

With thirsts unquenched.

In teary wrenches,

With pains unclenched.

**

And I wait…

With all those before me,

Hand full of love and heart full of dreams,

Unrequited.

With all those after me,

Eyes full of hope and feet full of desires,

Unignited.

***

And I wait…

Ain’t no repose this burning,

A pyre for a rising new born.

Ain’t no excuse this brewing,

A prayer willed by the Self’s numen.

****

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What do you see # 358- 14 September, 2026

A poem written in response to this week’s WDYS prompt by Sadje.

Behind the scenes:

This picture deeply moved me. It was as though I travelled back in time to my own past.

There is something about the woman that deeply resonates with me. With who I was, not so long ago.

Seated within herself, wisening eyes and borken hearted: lying in wait…For what though?

Struggling to come to to terms with what was disintegrating within me and charting a new course for what I wanted from life…considering I was left behind yet again. By love, dreams and a future I was certain was mine and within reach.

So I waited.

Letting the tea within me percolate and create a brew for itself.

In silence, in penance. For the old lies to die and the new ways to abide by me…for once.

In the metaphorical bench called Life, with gut wrenching pain arising from my unclenched heart and thirsting for something I knew not…yet unquenched.

With all those before me, who had walked the same paths, betrayed by their loves and dreams…even themselves.

With all those after me, who lay in wait…to walk the same paths with unignited hopes and desires.

The poem is a salute to a version of me I had to shed to become who I am today. Who persisted with the chrysalis stage of waiting…not knowing how long she will have to sit in the burning fire.

But the wait is what paid off in the end. The burning hell soon turned to a rainy paradise and I was reborn, rising as a phoenix from the storm waters of the old.

The wait was not a repose. It was a pyre.

A pyre I had to burn in to be born anew.

To become the becoming.

For, can one rise without laying deep roots from the Self to the Self? Can one grow without waiting for patience to work it’s magic like sunshine and rain do for a tiny seed to sprout?

The wait was not an excuse. It was a prayer.

A long held prayer being answered by the divine nature within me — the numen of the Self.

To embody the becoming.

#WDYS

#Whatdoyousee

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