Waiting for the bus - the bus that never comes

Waiting at the bus stop.

patiently waiting -

for the bus that never comes.

I think I see it in the distance,

if I squint my eyes

and focus really hard

or if I close my eyes

and listen

closely.

I hear a faint rumbling.

I feel the energy of the bus

even though I can’t quite see it.

or hear it.

I believe the bus will come.

I see it in my mind’s eye.

How wonderful it will be -

the flowers that adorn it,

music trilling sweetly -

the breeze carried with its movement -

the love within it.

I believe in the bus.

It has to come -

It has to -

even if I can’t see, hear or feel it.

right?

If I wait patiently -

and stay hopeful -

It will surely come to me.

It rains

and I wait.

It’s dark

and I wait -

through fog

and misty mornings,

I wait.

Anger bubbles up.

You better get here bus!

I invested in you.

I can’t walk away.

Please come, dear bus.

Take me where I am going next

I’m too weak to travel

without you -

Too scared to

navigate

solo.

I stamp my feet.

I shout to the heavens -

tears,

hiccups.

I rest on the earth.

I weep

Tantrums,

Longing,

Bartering.

Do not make it come.

I sit in the quiet

on the ground

on the hard pavement.

Depleted.

Empty.

It’s quiet.

Plants push through the cracks.

Crickets and critters sing a song of peace.

A frog and I

gaze into each other’s eyes -

Silent and still.

A cat greets me.

Pushing its forhead to mine.

I look up

into his healing soulful eyes.

Wiping my tears,

I see yellow across the street

What is that?

A bicycle leaning against a tree.

A shiny yellow bike with my name painted on the side.

I look closer.

The cat joins my stride.

I place fresh meadow flowers in its basket.

My cat jumps in and purrs, relaxing with lavender, goldenseal and mint.

The sun peeks through clouds -

shining a light

on the license plate -

that reads

freedom -

and I pedal

into a beautiful future -

and never look back.