Exploring the stories of women who live by a ride-or-die philosophy

[POETRY] Wait of the Essence

By Yelly

There I was….

Or so I thought

In love.

What’s love?

Love is this, love is that

But it shouldn’t be a wrap, tightly

around you, suffocating your every

thought, move and….

I can’t breathe

Please

Please

Hurry home

This ordeal has taken enough toll

On me,

For it is I that fails to be free

Free to move, love, smile, laugh and think

I was a hostage for some time

Who’s really paying for the crime?

It was I

A hostage to my own home

In order to ensure I was by the

phone

Alone,

Alone

Is all I remember

For time is of the essence

That time I will never

Get

Back

But this was love?

Wasn’t it?

Stop and sit.

This was what I needed to do,

For I was your boo.

What does that even mean?

It means you wait

And wait and wait

Wait because this is love.

Wait for your name to be called.

Wait for the phone call.

Wait to see if you will be shipped away.

Wait and pray, for never the day.

Wait for the day you will be free.

I will be free.

Oh how I can’t wait to be free.

Free from these chains that have

held me down for so long.

All because you did wrong.

Not I.

But you.

Yet I’m here trying to play it cool.

Everything will be okay, once the

wait is over.


yellyYelly is a mother, wife and secondary teacher within the Toronto District School Board as well as a PhD candidate at OISE. Her research focuses on empowering young people who are systemically marginalized in classrooms across Canada.

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