On waiting

Waiting —
ravenous, all-consuming,
you devour my day
with the promise of nothing and everything
with the weight of possibility and
the emptiness of not-yet.

Full stride yet frozen
Caught between yes/no
Maybe/finally —
Its circles ever widening until
This nothingness, the not-yet
Is everything.

I squint and there they are —
children husband home dinner dog lawn leaves dishwasher schedule
But under the weight of waiting
they fade in and out of view,
they my everything —
how can it feel like nothing?

Out of everything,
the weight of nothing strikes like a fist
grinds my face in dust
reminds me —
where I am
where I came from
where I’m going,

God is faithful to remind me:
I am nothing.
He is everything.
And this waiting-for is a vapor,
gathered in his palm
like I am —
if I could just
let go.