Waiting For Some Better Day Poem by Thomas Bates

Although distance rests
like the softness of a
sweater elbow bent resting in wool,
time and distance have become
a sorrowful enemy
to
me and my well-being.
I am sorry, etc. and
doubtless, you have surely expected me to be.
the trees bend with the breeze
and colors unfold just before the Falling of our eyes.
I sense an enemy in the waiting, feverish with fear, outside,
waiting to rain down his spreading terror.

Instead I lay in my bed enthralled-
all
of these sentiments
turning from uselessness to euphoria, in an
impossible dream of
providence....

I await the back-drift from the wings of a million birds.
thoughts are limited
to none of sorrow, and
I cannot think or make excuses for my tomorrow today.
I will be an animal
in chains, suddenly unchained,
only waiting for the day.

only waiting for acceptance,
on some other wind-torn day such as this day.