The Waiting Season
by Al Konda
There’s a stillness this season brings — a kind of sacred hush that hovers between anticipation and memory. Not all Christmases sparkle. Some arrive quiet, frayed at the edges, full of mismatched ribbons and dog-eared rituals. But in that quiet? There’s truth. There’s beauty. There’s us.
The Waiting Season is a poem for all of us who carry hope like a candle through the long nights. It’s for the ones who find joy not only in the dazzling lights but in the crooked wreath, the burnt cider, and the sleepy smiles around the table. It’s a piece of heart-writing, stitched with warmth and sorrow, memory and magic. This is the December I know — the one where love trembles just beneath the surface, where laughter shares space with longing, and where the truest gifts are not wrapped in bows but in moments that pass too quickly and stay forever.Thank you for reading. I hope this poem wraps around your soul the way a soft old blanket does. If it speaks to you, pass it on. Someone else might need the comfort too.“The season calls—not back, but deep inside— To where my heart and home are still allied.”
Read the full poem: The Waiting Season – Full Poem
© Al Konda · The Poetry Elite