Poetry by Christianna Cannon

WAITING

The sky is turning, a giant blue globe
Encompassing all, its clouds like the sea
It spirals down to meet the horizon,
All that's to be seen, on all sides of me

In the midst of it all, I stand chilled by the breeze
Taking a risk
Hoping I don't freeze
Waiting for the sun's warmth
And dreaming of stone
Waiting for hard rains to fall

The gray city street speaks to me of deep thought
I feel its vibrations, a massive heartbeat
Towers of glass rise like bars of a cage
Common people, by thousands, swarm on the concrete

In the midst of it all, I stand alive and alone
Waiting for nightfall
And the wisdom it brings me
Waiting for another light
And dreaming of stars
Waiting for noise in the silence

Between the dead branches, the fragments of sky
Bleed orange and red like shattered stained glass
The sun has sunk low, spilling clear fire light
Flowing over the world, between dark blades of grass

In the midst of it all, I stand cold and uncouth
Waiting for something
To take me far away
Waiting for my other self
To speak once again
Waiting for sorrow and power
Waiting

circa 1998-99.

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