Wait A While

The following Poem has been a struggle because of the subject that it carries. I have deleted and dumped more versions than I would ever care to do. BUT I settled on one that Is far from my usual style, because of the topic that it covers and how I wished it to be seen.

Preface

There are moments in a life when the soul feels wintered, when shadows linger longer than they should, and the heart, though trying, cannot lift its own light. In such hours, silence grows heavy, and the mind may wander toward endings that the spirit was never meant to carry alone.

But quietly, often without sound or sign, Grace draws close. Not with thunder or command, but with a warmth that settles softly beneath the frost, a presence that leans toward us when we cannot lean back, a whisper woven through the very breath we breathe: Stay. I am with you. Do not give up your dawn.

This poem follows a hidden orchard rose, weather-worn and nearly willing to fade from the world. Yet even in its coldest hour, the rose is not abandoned; a subtle guiding warmth moves toward it, lifting it, holding it, helping it see that the dark is not the end, only the interval before light.

For in every weary heart, there remains a spark God has not allowed the storm to steal. And sometimes all we are asked to do is rest in that quiet reassurance
and wait for the morning He is already preparing.

May this poem be such a whisper a gentle echo of the Love that keeps vigil in our darkest places, a reminder that even when we cannot feel the sun, the Light has already begun its way toward us. Wait a while… and you will see it.

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(This is not the best image for this Poem But it has to work for this one as the Poem is enough for this topic. . All thanks go to AI and its attempt to provide the image I asked for. Thus credit goes there))

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Wait A While




At the edge of an orchard, a garden lay still,
Where roses were tended by quiet, devoted will.
Yet one little blossom, wind-blown, lost from the view,
Through winter’s wild weather felt weary, cold, and blue.



It thought itself nothing, a thin, trembling, fragile thing,
For frost stole its colour, and storms overruled its spring.
But deep in the dimness, a soft, steady warmth would stay,
A hushed, healing heartbeat that held it through each long day.



Then one gentle morning, when mist met the waking light,
A warm, woven whisper moved soft through thinning night:
“Though cold clouds may gather, though comfort feels faint and far,
You’re held in a haven more holy than you are.”



And slowly that blossom, once pressed by the weight of pain,
Found strength in the stillness to open its heart again.
Its petals, long burdened, now lifted in quiet grace,
As sunlight came seeking its secret and shadowed place.



So listen, dear soul, when sorrow grows deep and wide,
Let morning’s mild mercy come rest at your weary side.
For orchards bear beauty that waits through the hardest trial,
Just stay, gentle heart… and please, wait for a while.






Copyright © 2025 Pat Fitzgerald 
All Rights Reserved

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ENDING THOUGHTS:

Thank you for following me on my little journey, that is composing or writing poetry. If Life is a journey which we all walk on and my journey in creating Poetry is a journey of it’s own. Which I still learn much on as I write.

At times I experiment on methods or way how I can improve my poetry, therefore getting feed back is always most welcome for such as these.

When I write poetry, some readers may be offended with something within the poetry. I do not write to offend, But such are written for reasons I outline in the posts. Often I miss typos and mistakes when publishing each poem. I correct the moment I discover such mistakes.

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