Though it tarries, wait.

by L.K. Walton
8 October 2013

Flower Bud

A longing for home
Heart content, hands open, palms raised,
No fear in love.
Quivering with joy & anticipation
But still, so still–
A hope buried in the grave
Joyful, hopeful, quiet, content.
No cause for anger,
No bitter bud.
A vision yet unclaimed,
Alive yet faint–
a smoldering wick.
No grabbing. No striving.
Hands folded in lap–
The choicest fruit sweetest
as reward,
not stolen property.
Not a home here,
yet given cosy nest as wings
grow strong,
Biding time until
set to fly.
Above, beyond, heart true & free.
Not in a cage now,
Unfettered by cares,
No fear holding back,
Feathers loosed enough to sweep the dust , not full-fledged
to leap.
No abyss to dread.
No phantom menace.
No indecision.
Perched, yet looking back over shoulder.
Home. Home. Old home.
Fixture. Sure & true.
Unknowns to come, so rest, deep quiet
Dream big & loud,
but keep head & heart
No wandering. No wondering,
All in time.
Heart beats fast.
Then calm.
Impatient dove, wait.
Remember your roots.
Plant there, deep seeded.
Love, keep, stay, bloom.
Keep the steady course.
It comes.


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