Waiting is brutal
Rochelle Mass
Sirens seared the air.
Soldiers made no announcements, just darted nervously -
and the line of cars behind us stiffened.
The officer near us removed his cap, wiped his face
didn't look our way.
Traffic lights continued green to red to green - a monotonous roll
I tried to count, tallying my fear, but couldn't turn it
into meditation.
Trapped in our cars, we gaped at soldiers swiveling guns.
Tension stretched round us. We repeated empty phrases
not remembering when we arrived, how long we'd been there.
Time hung, crumbled into another hour. Vague and confused
we craved diversion, dazzled by the panic of what might happen.
Night fastened a shadow to every form.
