I used to think patience was a game of motion:
slow but soon shows up if you wait with devotion.
Then himpatience taught me that motion
can choose to come on tips of toes,
carefully walking without pause
and yet, closer and closer as it draws,
the slowed wings of light, though intense,
begin to yield to the gravity of himpatience –
so much so that only patience makes sense.
And so I will wait for motion to tiptoe on wings
of bended light; via known and unknown things.
I will wait for motion to defy gravity’s flings.
I will wait for patience to come and become;
to announce its arrival, not with a gun or drum,
but with the wisdom of ignorance ready to succumb.
I will wait for patience’s spear to slay himpatience’s fear.
As it lies prostrate, writhing in joy, I will not shed a tear
Why should I? Writhed joy means courage’s arrival is near.
Kap©2017
