Waiting

Jackson Square

I am in Jackson Square
Waiting for my father —
It’s hot for a March afternoon,
And the sun shines with promise.

My pocket is full of candy,
But my hands are empty.
My sisters are not far,
Yet, they are not with me.

I am sleeping,
I am dreaming,
I am waiting.

Waiting for my father —
To walk me down Bourbon Street
Past the whiskey bars
And blues saloons.

Waiting for him to give me a quarter
To put in the beggar’s cup.
He will appear
Like he always has,

White shirt, sleeves rolled,
Walking beside the railroad tracks
Hatless, under the high tension wires
And he will see me in the distance

Waiting for him on
The hillside and wave,
Coat over his shoulder,
And I will run to meet him.

I am sleeping,
I am dreaming,
I am waiting.

Waiting for my father —
The cathedral bell come alive
Calling the faithful home,
As I see him, again, in the distance.

My father will walk us all
Into the cool darkness,
And we will kneel and say a prayer
For all that was, and all that will ever be.

Author: Virginia Wagner Galfo

These are scary times. Prepare yourself to take a stand for what is right. God damn it, just be kind!

3 thoughts on “Waiting”

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