the epistemology of waiting

i write with 29 minutes to go
before Mass

this morning about 75 men gathered in the room
we know in the monastery as
the chapter room that room wherein
we consolidate the tendencies of communism and
democracy and benevolent dictatorship

for 20 minutes our Abbot held forth
with words more poetic than didactic
he alluded to this very feminine time of year
the time of waiting the time of shadows lengthening
the bracing of ones will against the dying light
on the horizon come way too soon it seems

waiting requires strength
or does it
people who are really ill seem to have to be patient
and they do so out of complete weakness
people who are alive with the knowledge that
very soon they must die must wait in a state of weakness
summoning all their strength
just to put up with the fact of death
staring one in the face

i stare out at the frozen landscape
stare in disbelief amazed that something
can be so white and clean and yet so evocative
of the mood of despair
my eyes barely able to open to whatever sunlight
might be driving through the grey cloud cover

with 20 minutes remaining before mass
i realize the weight of waiting
i realize my need to know that what i am waiting for
is indeed within the grasp of my soul
that there is the hand the arm the bosom of god's love
and my ability to live into that love

is my will free enough to love freely?

this is what i wait for
this is what i long to see and
this is the test of the quiet forlorness of patience
of advent
this is the urgency of the hearts' true desire

i wait in the dark state of not knowing
with the desire to know
to see the light
and to have it melt the icy winter
of my selfish heart