Poem April 13, 2009 Issue

IN 3 DAYS

Carol Carter

Do you imagine
He paced the floor?
Or drummed his fingers
Against the door?
Or bit his lip
Feeling less than sure?
Or wrung his hands
Despairing for more?

No. He never prayed from lack.

His eye wasn't fixed
On "rock-ribbed wall."
Thought was rising—
It couldn't stall.
His waiting was not
About wanting at all.
It trusted the answer
Preceded the call.

And the stone rolled back.

—Carol Carter

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