The Dew of Waiting

I have waited for you

I leaned against the doorpost

waiting, waiting

but did not knock

for you were not ready

I did not ask you to come out,

But I leaned on the doorpost.

Through the night I waited,

until the sun began to rise,

and light touched your sleeping face,

and the dew covered me

the gentle rain that soothed you

had soaked me in the night

yet still I waited

waiting and guarding

at the doorpost of your dwelling

waiting, close, oh ever so close

to the heart of my beloved

waiting, waiting

till the light touched your face

and you awoke

and I called out with joy

Open to me, my sister, my love!

and I knocked with eagerness and delight

my dove, my perfect one

Open to me!

You are a garden locked

A fountain sealed

You are my garden

Your fountain flows with living water

the water from my side

I come to my garden,

my sister, my bride,

Open to me!

My dove, my perfect one

Open to me!

I have waited for you

From time spent in meditation on Song of Solomon 4:12,15;5:1-2

Beth Anne's Poetry