by Lindsay Oberst

I am waiting

for a rebirth of wings

for a new America
(without killing anybody)

I am waiting

for a rebirth of waiting
a revival of perpetual discovery

a withering away
of anxious

waiting —

for waiting is wings
for the wailing.

NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: This began as an erasure of Lawrence Ferlinghetti’s poem “I Am Waiting” and then became less rigid as I picked words and phrases out of order to compose a poem. I began to see an idea forming. In America, we live in an instant gratification culture. People hate to wait for things. The ideas of peaceful waiting, of stillness, of time to let things be — theses ideas have lost hold on our lives. Waiting is art we have ceased to practice. And when we do, we are anxious about it. But waiting is part of nature. It can heal pain and lead us to endless discoveries. This does not mean inaction but acceptance. Waiting can lift us up, as if we have wings.

IMAGE: “Clock with Blue Wing” by Marc Chagall (1949).


ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Lindsay Oberst is a freelance writer, editor, and poet, from Atlanta, Georgia. Her creative work can be seen in PANK Magazine, The Found Poetry Review, Six Sentences, Write Club, and others. Find her online at @LindsayOWrite and