Someone once told me,
Actions speak louder than words.

I paid him no attention
As he walked away.
I realized his actions
Had nothing to say.

Now mine scream loudly,
Like an unheard fallen tree.
I’m waiting for a witness,
To take note of me.

I’m vying for attention,
On life’s crowded stage.
It’s almost the last act,
And I’ve yet to be paid.

I stare out at the vacancies.
And I’m forced to wonder:

Am I condemned or condoned?
Is there a marquee?
Am I tortured or tolerated?
Will an usher come for me?

And then I remember
The wise words I was shown.

Following his example,
I gather my things.
I’ve always been curious,
Who’s waiting in the wings?


Leave a Reply