by Marai Rataj

Created on: December 18, 2009   Last Updated: December 30, 2011

Wait.

A silent Madonna holds still the memory,
Calls disturbed her solid voice to inconstancy.
Curse her!
Curse her and lament the silence in her
Which hazarded away not hours before
in tempestuous cries and shouts,
A dervish of truth.

"Don't. Don't make me watch the man I love
in the arms of another woman."
Simple, complicating truth.
He could not love her. No, not yet.

Stone-like, holding her love to her chest
like Mary to her crucified son, she weeps.
For, though Tragedy lingered with cloying wings,
Poised to pen despair, the woman had hope.
No tragedy but time, no laughter but promise.
Not yet.

Not yet, was not no.
Oh how cruel undecided hearts could donate
in respect and reverence to friendship, a tender heart.
He could not love her, promised as he was to another.
But maybe, in time.
Not yet.

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