Wait, papa

Vladimir Huber > Poems > Wait, papa

Atlantic City, NJ, March 21, 1972

Wait, papa

By Vladimir Huber

It came in a letter,
as many other things.
It was a surprise,
even though, I knew.
It made me feel sad,
to imagine that I was never
going to see you again.
It made stronger
the after Christmas visit.
I will see you, viejo;
be sure of that.
Just, please don’t leave
before I get down there;
that would be really sad.
Promise me
that you will wait for me.
I have to be with you,
and now we will be together.
We will be united,
in spirit
and talking to each other,
as we never imagined.
You might cry,
I might cry,
everybody might cry,
but they will be
tears from happiness;
the tears that
we couldn’t experience before.
We mostly saw,
the wet and dripping tears
of sadness and misunderstanding.

You got to wait for me.
You got to receive me.
You got to experience
our union at last.
Can you see, that
I’ve been waiting for this
all my life?
When I used to be sad and scared,
I used to think
of moments like this,
with you and me
open to each other,
and having that feeling
of warmth and concern.

Papa, you got to wait for me.