Advent: Waiting

I wrote this six years ago when I was pregnant with Margaret. talk to me about the waiting…

mostly I crouch, head bowed, eyes closed against the soft black, safe in liquid suspense. but even in the nothing there are constant somethings: a fluid symphony, simmering, rolling, rushing past; a metronome beating out the time, world without end—and a voice: hushed murmur, burbling laugh, distant yet irresistible.

and then, at certain times, I am bathed in thirsty, throaty songs: o come, o come, long-expected one; rejoice, rejoice, prepare the way; comfort, comfort, alleluia, amen. and these reverberations of hope shake the cradle that holds me, and I stretch the kinks out of kneeling legs, raise my arms in praise, then bow and wait, again, for that time when we will sing Joy! To the World! together.