21.03.2024

When my mother died, my father spent his time waiting. 

He watched TV, and he waited. 

He had his coffee and bowl 

Of Dole grapefruit every morning, and he waited. 

He slept each afternoon for hours, ate his Lean Cuisine dinners, fed Jack, then was back in bed by eight each night to watch more TV before falling asleep by 9, only to wake again at seven, and do it all again. 

When Carrie died, I thought

All that was left to me was to wait. 

To fill my laborious days with

Small distractions. 

I wrote

And I waited.

I slept

And I waited. 

I scrolled on Facebook, and YouTube, bought things I didn't need, tried to fill the hole she left, and I waited. 

On October seventh,I woke to a world that had

Torn off its mask,  and

I couldn't wait anymore. 

It's why I'm coming home. 

Not to die, but finally to live. 

I have waited long enough

To

Become

No more; it's time instead,

To be.

I have signed the papers. 

I will sweep this heavy, grey dust from my wings, and

Fly     Again

Toward blue, open air.