Serve, Help, Attend, Bide or Abide
is part of what I do
most every day
then, knowing best
I am not master
of my time
oh, how I abhor
some of those moments,
hours days
of confine, then
acquiesce and whine
often, surrendering ungracefully
complain, and plan
not to submit again,
if I can help it
find, another way
alas we come into this world
borne of the womb,
having waited
nigh on nine months
crying, let me be
standing in line
or queing up
a part of life
and social strife
a test of patience
accepting hierarchy
of physical crowding
is our legacy
surviving is our story
tolerance its solution,
alas one is inherited
the other learned
if at all,
a virtue
admired and esteemed
makes waiting easier
there are other faces
not thrust upon us
but of choice to
await, attend
and serve
a most holy cause
a helping hand
an act of aid
a friendly deed
without repay or display,
sometimes the interim
is that much sweeter
having stayed the course
relished the moments
during and before
this too is what I do,
most every day
and find no reason
or reason
to complain,
eases my pain,
serving the sick and infirm,
waiting on,
a music
of a different nature
I hear the tones
and notes, the thrill
of empathy
the trill of sympathy,
bringing tears
both stinging
and caressing
soothing the soul
my psyche
transports me
to a world more sublime,
oh let me
curl up
in your lap
await
my time
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Thank you so much, Shimon, for this long, slender write. Today is not one of my better days and so i turned to poemhunter to read some poems. I always open poems on my favoutite numbers,1,7,17,37. Yours was on pege 37, my year of birth - seems I've been waiting for this poem, on this day when i just don't want to wait on so many things that I just can't stand! Then you said, 'surviving is our story, tolerance its solution. I guess I just have to wit it all out - now you've given me a new face for waiting - slim, nice, beautiful my 10+ will save this