I am waiting for a god I can touch.
I am waiting to feel the world turning,
to sense myself moving at a thousand
miles an hour. I am waiting to shout
to the universe I am here! To hope that
something out there is silent enough
to hear me. I am waiting to birth
a voice that echoes.
I am waiting for another I am,
for the incense of burning bush
on the air, for something I might recognize
as miracle, which might be as
quiet as a naked branch in winter
or my son’s heartbeat beneath my fingers.
I am waiting for the stars
to explain themselves instead
of disappearing into the past.
I am waiting for the earth
to rise up and claim itself
away from us. I am waiting for
an earthquake to split the chrysalis
wide open until every tethered
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