I've taken the exit
I've crossed the road
I've lifted off
My burdensome load.
And I have arrived,
So here I wait;
I glance at my watch-
No, I'm not too late.
But where are you now?
I've come to meet you,
But you're not here yet,
And I'm beginning to doubt you.
I wait, and count the minutes,
I listen for the sound
Of footsteps, but the hours pass,
Darkness falls all 'round.
I've taken a seat
By the side of the lane
And I try to ignore
The darkness and rain;
You said you were coming
To meet me tonight.
I see no one else
By the pale moon light.
You asked me to wait,
Said it might take a bit,
That I'd think you were late,
And so here I sit.
I don't mind a rest
For just awhile
But the hours that pass
Have weakened my smile.
I'm restless, I'm cold,
The darkness complete.
And I still hear no sound
Of approaching feet.
But I'm hearing your voice
And I'm feeling your peace.
The hour grows later-
My patience has ceased.
I drop my pen,
I close my book.
The sun starts to rise
As on I look.
I waited all night
And you didn't show.
In disgust and anger
I stand up to go.
I pick up my burden,
Not looking back now.
I've decided to carry it,
Though I'm wondering how.
No matter- I'll get it.
I've no time to wait.
How can I trust someone
Who's always late?
Then I hear a voice
From far behind
Asking, "Where did you go?
For now it is time."
And I realize
You never said when.
I just assumed
The time would be then.
I gave up too soon.
You told me to stay.
You said you'd be there,
But I was swayed.
I should have trusted
You'd not let me down.
So now I stop,
And I turn around,
But there is a fog
That fills the soft morn
And obscures the past-
I am now forlorn.
I've missed my chance
Because I didn't trust
That you would come.
Your timing is just.
I've missed the blessing,
Must carry my load.
So I begin
The long trek down that road.
But what's this I hear,
Your footsteps, your voice?
"Child, it's not too late.
You still have a choice.
Child, meet me tomorrow,
We'll try this again."
So that's why I sit here
On the side of the lane.
postscript
I would consider this one a scrap in that the technique, the skill, the complexity, the phrasing, and that sort of thing are not quite up to par with my usual stuff. By that I mean, it's not refined. But the message itself is fully there, and just as loud as in any of my other poems. I did not feel the need to smooth the edges of this poem; I kind of like its roughness and simplicity. But I do hope you enjoy the message, because for me at least it is one that recurs far too often in my life than I care to admit. But that's why this poem is helpful to me: it reminds me of what always happens in this situation, and what God will always do for me.