Amid a veritable horde of other materials available for us to share in Advent together, I submit another poem/prayer. May the angst, ambivalence, austerity and frustration of waiting be rewarded in our common longing for the coming Light.

Too many moons after too many suns and still,

we wait.

To arise to yet another day with no sight of promises end,

we wait.

My great, great, great, many more great grandparents told this same tale,

we wait.

My great, great, great grandchildren…will they tell this same tale?

We wait.

Once pliable, elastic and hope-filled words, spoken from that creepy prophet guy in my history textbook,

we wait.

In hopscotch rhymes, coffee table books and riddles for the Sunday newspaper,

we wait.

Faithless ones mock, faithful ones pretend to believe, seeking ones struggle to hope,

we wait.

Stuck in one solitary spot, floating in an endless ocean of shark infested water,

we wait.

Nine year old boys sneak their umpteenth grab of dinner being prepared a year after lunch,

we wait.

We’ve long ago forgotten or even care about what we were waiting for,

we wait.

Will we even know

when the waiting is over?

Still,

we wait…