I believe
my wife’s grandfather was a hero.
Born in a place where they put up walls
to contain people just like him.
Built a statue in Philadelphia
to commemorate how those walls
were torn down.
Three generations of people
called him Zeydi.
with perfect faith
as if anything could accurately
be described as perfect.
as if we all have a handle
on faith.
as if someone didn’t once
march to their death
with their faith, un-wavered
powerful on their face.
in the coming of the Messiah
which is why my pockets
always have coins in them
in case he or she shows up
and needs help buying a beverage
after the long journey. Which is why
every person I meet deserves
to be treated like they
may be the one.
You never know when the Messiah
is standing next to you in the elevator.
and despite the delay
which is excruciating to tolerate
in our new world where if a delivery
doesn’t come the same day we ordered
we’ve already failed.
where patience is no longer a word.
where some people waited
a lifetime to forget about the
numbers on their skin.
I will wait.
for that day
when we turn on the faucet
and freedom runs out.
where there is no drought
of tolerance. Where no-one
has to think of people in terms of millions.
I will wait.
I am waiting.