Stop Motion Poem by Natasha Hochar

Moon after moon is reborn and waning,
and I am here anticipating.
The tide is rising and waves are crashing
where my footprints once signed the shore
and then the tide goes low and I linger some more.
Suns show their faces, and shadows entertain us
until the cycle repeats bringing on the night.
Stars die and I am waiting in the remains of their light
as space rocks fly
and the earth is showered with meteorites.

The body deteriorates and cells disintegrate,
and age slowly carves crevices on my face.
Breathing till I suffocate,
till this heart fails to operate
and nothing succeeds to resuscitate,
until my death it seems I will wait.

Life is spread again through the breeze by the bees
and a tree finally touches a passing cloud.
Then the forest once more withers,
bringing winter shivers
as snow dresses the land with its shroud.
Animals hibernate till the leaves regenerate
and in this moving world, I wait.

We must be alone,
each forging a path of their own.
We must separate,
while the wolves and the albatrosses mate.
We must wait
we must anticipate
we must procrastinate.

What is so virtuous about patience
and why is it so great?
What is this world that we create
and why can't I relate?
Because all I ever do is wait.