Anticipation that life will one day recommence –
as if a curtain will open and there I’ll be, sitting
in the audience, hungrily waiting for the play –
has drawn me from my solitude, encouraged.
Have a friendly enough disposition, once graced
the boards myself – a lifetime ago now – confident
in my ability to engage, find kindred conversation,
may even make a friend or two, unless I disappear
again, slip back into the silence, abandon others
without a trace, grow restless, search for meaning
among the sheepish drones –a preponderance of
perpetual inactivity begetting obesity, choosing
comfort over confrontation – the curtain is drawn
the drama unfolding and we idol sitters, we fickle
non-committers watch agape, dumbfounded by
the acts, defy our better instincts, remain inert,
prefer to go back to sleep, but the dogged truths
of inhumanity are playing out on life’s stage, and
we are called to brush off the lull of anxious
politeness and dare to rise to anger, find passion
claim a role and be cast into the action, no time
for auditions, the script is unfolding, the ending
assured, unless we are willing to awaken, prod
the masses, and re-envision a less tragic ending.
(Image from camstage.com)
One Woman's Quest 