I’ve suspended my disbelief
and the suspense is killing me.
Is he or isn’t he–? Yes? No?
The aimless wanderer hung out
with so-called friends, no goals, no ends,
followed after and fell forward.
Did he–? Could he–? Will the plea be…?
Viewing this cliffhanger ending,
heart wrung out, like sheets on the line,
flaps in the wind, flings drops wildly.
My thoughts pound and echo, rising
up and falling back from hope like
warning clangs and claps of struck bells.
Swinging back and forth, an endless
litany of minute questions.
“Did he–? Was he–? Could he–? Will we–?”
Knife-edged comfort, to depend on
others’ knowledge, virtue, mercy.
Truth is up for grabs, and hope hangs
in the balance, love a grave and
constant weight, an anchor here, now.
Waiting. Yes, no? Innocent or–?
Lord, I believe. I’ve hung up my
unbelief. Hang on to me so
the suspense won’t kill me.