it always waits I


it always waits.

long enough

for me to begin

to forget.

to have

a semblance

of certainty

in a new reality

where things are slightly better.

normal, maybe.

long enough

so my eyes

can collapse

into dreams

bursting at the seams

with what seems

to be tranquility.

long enough

to feel as though

it was long enough


and i can finally

let go.

until it stops waiting.


© Hudson Biko

Photograph by Annie Spratt

2 thoughts on “it always waits I”

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