PENDING

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.