July 4, 1993

Up in the corner –

window, doorway, wall –

sits the spider,


in his web.

Outside, on the bench,

I sit, waiting,

for someone,

friend or stranger,

to come along.

A plop on the cobbles,

it’s not what I thought –

no birds, but just a branch

above, and then suddenly

a slender arrow slides across the stones,

as if on roller skates,

scales the sheerness of the plaster wall,

pauses, half hiding, in a crack,

waiting for me to go away

and I


to see what he will do…the lizard.


One is always waiting.

Not just for the bus, the dentist,

for the boys to come to dinner.

Not just the mailman

or for spring to come again

(no! that’s anticipation –

there’s a difference!).

Waiting for a storm to break,

for the next flash of lightning.

Waiting in the deep of night

for calmer thoughts to drive away

the ever-building clouds of worry.

Waiting for something to change – but what?

Waiting for Godot?

Who knows.

Waiting for what will come –

waiting in the end to stop waiting.

For the known,

and the unknown.

Waiting is a sinking into the well

below the outer surface of oneself.

Is moving inward –

not giving, not receiving.

Just waiting.

Letting thoughts take shape.

The periods of waiting,

filled with smaller periods of waiting,

filled with other shorter periods

a box within a box, within a box,

a Matrioska,

with the biggest box of all

life itself,

encompassing the beginning and the end.

And now, 2021, we’re waiting still.

To return to what we consider normality.

Waiting for an enemy to disappear.

One never stops


3 thoughts on “Waiting

  1. Erika Another thoughtful musing… It’s interesting when there is a date on your writing – it reminds me of archaeology and the question of provenance. For the reader and for you – where were you when you wrote something? Where was the reader? How do these all impact the poems or stories? More musings Hope all is well! 🌹 J

    Sent from my iPhone



  2. As we await the coming of spring and hope for a return of what we used to think of as normal, this profound piece feels perfectly timed.

    And how astute of you to differentiate between waiting and anticipation! How many times do we hear about the need to stay in the moment?

    I see that the word that keeps popping up even as I admire your words here is “time.” Someone more prudent would have waited longer to compose her thoughts before responding. But the clock is ticking. It’s time for me to stop rambling and just say, brava.👏⏲🕰


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