Now I Wish to Wait

Now I Wish to Wait

Image and video hosting by TinyPic Hear Mary-Jane read this poem

When I was young,

I toyed with others’ hearts

the way new kittens play

with balls of wool, the way

the wind dallies in a chime.


I’m slower now,

but, yes, more graceful, and

I know it is not me

they are talking about.


I remember well,

my outrage sought to take

the moorings from the ground,

the heather from the hill.

I could have taken the willow

from the root,

the limpet from the crag,

the eagle from its young.


Age has taught me

there is no need to rush,

has taught me

I can afford to be generous,

and now I wish to wait.


I used to catch the wind

in caves of ice,

and dreamt of red mountains

and landscapes of rock,

and hollows filled

with water and fading light,

and rain drifting as veils

over the peaks and beyond,

and, in the distances, there was

a warm gleam on the sea.


But, you know,

there is something to be said for

the mild weather and the thought

that precedes one’s actions.


When I was young,

I felt the night wind on my face,

and joy and anguish in my heart.

I climbed the grit stone peaks,

and came down

in blazing sparks of fire.


Now, the moon rises

above the quiet lakes

and there’s no call for praise

I know my place

and look no further.


Recorded at DoubleDouble Creative & Productions, Hong Kong