Air Through A Beard In Wait’s Valley

Longing in a dry mental riverbed

Reaching out, abandoned valley, filled with air

One weak blue flower battling soil

Yearning quieted as suffering is weight


Changing before the ever watching sky

Stars looking through tilted heads with wonder

And I am on a table receiving surgery

Millimeter adjustments and snips


All in preparation for God’s eternal love

Readied for the affection of one woman until death

Breath splitting and scattering silence

My Heavenly Father says wait son

You’ll be ready just in time

You won’t miss me or her I know when you’ll arrive


It is difficult


What I need

I’ll wait.

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