Posted in Poetry

A song on waiting

By Noel Ihebuzor


The evening limps on dragging feet

slowly, the enlarging darkness of night

overruns the day

urging the dying day to bed and rest

the lights die out

as silence enfolds the enveloping darkness

and she waits



Time crawls on millipede feet

seconds last long like sluggish minutes

sadness and worry rest heavy

heavy on her restless pacing feet

(occasionally stamping feet)

as a damp blanket


Between pacing, stamping and sitting,

she stays on, stays up, eyes heavy

soul heavier, spirit drooping

wrestling with the harsh hands

of hurt and reality

that now strangle her dreams

and choke her soul


she checks the hum of every passing car

ears straining and acute

hearing the silent footfalls of footless spirits

responding to the call of the night

as they glide to their nocturnal haunts


And she wishes she could go forth like them

but she cannot

worry has hollowed her eyes

self pity erodes her soul

creeping doubt slowly strangles her self confidence

but courage and hope prop her up


and she wonders which company keeps him today

what outside tall tales inspire his loud laughter

what colored claws and lips

trace well perfected caresses on his frame

and bring sparkles and glitter

to his otherwise dead eyes


and she wonders

where all that intensity has flown

where, how, why and when

all that “we go die together” died,

where it was buried….

and she wonders and worries

as her mind wanders, and waits and hopes



and she sits, stands, sits,

sighs and waits…

waiting for the car lights in the drive way

for the well feigned contrition, the well rehearsed tales,

the unreliable car, the low battery…..

dreading the smell of alcohol and strange perfumes

and just wondering how long…yes, just how long before!


Development and policy analyst with a strong interest in the arts and inclusive social change. Dabbles occasionally into poetry and literary criticism!

7 thoughts on “A song on waiting

      1. Weak waiting women and the truth they fear will come upon them make the reader’s heart to beat in anticipation: what lies shall the philanderer concoct tonight? Police checkpoint, bomb blast or seized card at the ATM?!!! The woman needs to be active and not be sedentary and almost somnolent.

        Liked by 1 person

  1. Oh, this one is sad, so sad, and heavy. Loved it in your book. The character waits for her unfaithful husband, in a combination of impatience and dread of hearing the same lies/excuses again. One wonders (or at least I do) if someday she will demand the truth from him, or if he will ever honor her feelings enough to tell her the truth. So sad for both of them, though my sympathies lie more with the woman;although both are wounded in this case.


    1. yes, indeed, and sadly so. The reality of sad lives trapped in a relationship where the bond is almost dead and where the self concept and esteem of the woman are the now the principal victims.


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