Wait by Galway Kinnell

Wait, for now.Distrust everything if you have to.But trust the hours. Haven’t theycarried you everywhere, up to now?Personal events will become interesting again.Hair will become interesting.Pain will become interesting.Buds that open out of season will become interesting.Second-hand gloves will become lovely again;their memories are what give themthe need for other hands. The desolationof lovers is the same: that enormous emptinesscarved out of such tiny beings as we areasks to be filled; the needfor the new love is faithfulness to the old.Wait.Don’t go too early.You’re tired. But everyone’s tired.But no one is tired enough.Only wait a little and listen:music of hair,music of pain,music of looms weaving our loves again.Be there to hear it, it will be the only time,most of all to hear your whole existence,rehearsed by the sorrows, play itself into total exhaustion.