slow work

I am waiting for all of this to make sense.

As a child, I remember being told "one day" as if a promise, when asking for something. Not your typical only child, dreams were images on paper I would draw or write, and that's it.

Now I feel closer than ever and the work is louder than sleep. It's always. It's no time. It's day in and eventually out.

I want to see that elusive One Day. To prove, as if a certificate of self, true. To feel a lifetime of trust wash over all the heartache. Maybe fear is why I cry, or is it relief. I cannot wait to say "You were right. It really does take everything that I am. Thank you."

Waiting