I Am Waiting
by Wilderness Sarchild

after Lawrence Ferenghetti

I am waiting for my granddaughter
to come home from the hospital,
for her to walk, touch hand to nose.
I’m waiting for the refrigerator
to be empty so I can fill it again
and I’m waiting to take
off my mask and kiss my friends
smack on the lips and blow
bubbles in the face of a three-year-old.

I am still waiting for hate
to be flushed down the toilet,
composted into kindness,
and I’m still waiting for a night when
I sleep eight hours without
waking up even once to pee.
I’m waiting for cold to return
so I can complain about winter
rather than worry about global warming.

I am not waiting for the messiah to come.
I am waiting for each one of us to come
and save us from ourselves.

PAINTING: Waiting by Nicholas Roerich (1927). 

NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: I like imitating poems by poets whose work I admire. It helps me to get out of my habitual ways of writing and opens creative doors that often surprise and delight me.


ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Wilderness Sarchild  is an award-winning poet and playwright. She is the author of a full-length poetry collection, Old Women Talking, published by Passager Books, and the co-author of Wrinkles, the Musical, a play about women and aging.  She has been featured as Poet of the Week on Poetry Superhighway, Poet of the Month at the Brewster Ladies Library, and can be heard reading her poetry on WCAI Poetry Sunday. Her poems have been published in numerous anthologies and literary journals. Visit her at wildernesssarchild.com