She is waiting for the Word to crash upon creation, making ancient stars flare in skies this night.
She is waiting for God to confess his frailty, in his world of fraud extolled and innocence condemned.
She is waiting for those chords of Hallelujah, their blistering arcs of ice-redeeming zeal.
She is waiting for her leaders to repent the chaos of their devising and hang their prideful heads or merely hang.
She is waiting for Nobel to cite her surname and for the ruined one to heal and be named too.
She is waiting for another chance at childhood if she only had the key to topple time. And in that toppling she would hang the executioners even if it booked her place in Hell.
She is waiting for the spider spinning silk inside her letterbox to teach her all the ways it might be done.
She is waiting for the gecko flicking gold around her bathtub to shed its gleaming scales upon her brow.
And in the purgatory of waiting
she hangs helpless in its gridlock,
in this never-ending wait
to stop the waiting…
Link to Inclusive Performance Workshop: https://www.artsaccess.com.au/the-last-avant-garde-research/