the waiting room of the world

Today I sit
in the waiting room of the world;
it’s quiet and there are no posters on the walls,
no magazines to keep me occupied,
just a chair and me,
waiting

The air is thick with the hopelessness
of yesterday,
its goodness yet to be recognised
and tomorrow feels
a long way off

I wait in the moment between
the beating of creation’s heart
here in the dim and the dark
hardly knowing what I am waiting for
just that this cannot be
the end

Holy Saturday, they call it,
the hush at the end of Holy Week,
and I confess
I find an affinity here

Today I sit
in the waiting room of the world,
listening to the nothingness
before that next beat, that first breath,
that new life
which is not here
yet

(c) Lucy Hannah 2018