Wait

Long after a good downpour, the dew drops

Still linger lovingly upon the leaves,

Hanging like jewels

Waiting to be plucked; and I think,

This, right here, is the beginning

Of all hope. How you stand on the threshold of joy,

Muddy shoes and cuts and wounds and

Most of all, sorrow

Dripping before its door,

Hoping it’ll find you worthy enough, anyway -

If only for a sip of its water. Lonely traveler,

How far have you trudged through the deserts

Only to give up right before

An oasis emerged? How far have you seen love through,

How deep have you let it drown you,

Before you swam to the surface, gasping for air

Or the will to live,

Only to find that you left it way down underneath, where

The fingers of a lover still lie outstretched?

You want to run towards all the good things, but

The earth can’t take your vicious footfalls.

Be gentle as you walk. Though this road is paved

With brambles and thorns and even the plastic souvenirs

Of a past too painful to break down, you must learn

To be patient.

Be slow, be kind, be loving, let

Flowers and vines finally grow

Over your skeletal skin, give them all

The tedious beat of your heart till it learns

How to sing.

And if there is only one thing you’ll ever know,

Then be it the art of waiting.

Because once this rain is over, the dew drops

Will start hanging like jewels

Waiting forever for the ground

To embrace them whole.

And whether they break or live on, shining,

Is besides the point.