the wait

it has always been about the wait.
we stumble toward the grave 
in a blinding fog pretending we can see.
we wait for the end,
living in the footnotes
of our lives, the summary
we try to pass off as story.
be we are the story, unabridged
and waiting to be read,
waiting for someone to turn
our pages as we wait for the end of
the chapters of our lives.

Comments 3

  • Zaji, We are separated Jamaicas brought together for a time such as this. Always thinking and pondering life.

    Or are we living breathing time capsules waiting to be opened by future generations.

    We 20th Century born sat at the feet of our Elders absorbing our family oral traditions. Treasured Griots sharing knowledge, wisdom and understanding.

    But how will our 22nd Century descendants interpret the Throwing of our old bones.

    Facebook, Twitter, Instagram. Long abandoned Blogs filled with dusty forgotten posts on desiccated lives.

    Will we stand the test of time?

  • I especially enjoy the first paragraph. The line “Stumble toward the grave in a blinding fog.”

    Reminds me of 1Corinthians 13:12

    “For now we see through a glass Darkly, but then Face to face.”

    One interpretation could be that in this Earthly world our vision is clouded by the ever present Veil. But once we graduate and transition to the next world all will be revealed.

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