You will have to wait. Until it. Until The last owl hoot has quavered to a <br /> <br />Vibrant silence and you realize thre is no breathing Beside you, and dark curdles toward dawn. Until <br /> <br />Drouth breaks, too late to save the corn, But not too late for flood, and the dog-fox, stranded <br /> <br />On a sudden islet, barks in hysteria in the alder-brake. <br /> <br />Until the doctor enters the waiting room, and His expression betrays all, and you wish He'd take his God-damned hand off your shoulder. Until <br /> <br />The woman you have lived with all the years Says, without rancor, that life is the way life is, and she <br /> <br />Had never loved you, had believed the lie only for the sake of the children. <br /> <br />Until you become uncertain of French irregular verbs And by a strange coincidence begin to take Catholic instruction from Monsignor O'Malley, who chews a hangnail. Until <br /> <br />You realize, truly, that our Saviour died for us all, And as tears gather in your eyes, you burst out laughing, <br /> <br />For the joke is certainly on Him, considering What we are. Until <br /> <br />You pick the last alibi off, like a scab, and Admire the inwardness, as beautiful as inflamed flesh <br /> <br />Or summer sunrise. Until you <br />Remember, suprisingly, that common men have done good deeds. Until it <br /> <br />Grows on that, at least, God <br />Has allowed us the grandeur of certain utterances.<br /><br />Robert Penn Warren<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/waiting-438/
