On the wall opposite
a gallery of posters and pamphlet raising awareness, and warnings
of conditions
he prays she doesn't have.
High glossed brochures they hope not to collect afterwards
The weight of the waiting
as crushing as the worries
they try to play off
in light conversation
pretending it's nothing.
Urging each open door and passing uniform to be the calling.
Eyes burning through the back of those who came after,
but are seen before them.
The unfairness of it draws the focus of their anxiousness in mutter curses.
Recalling the sayings
"its a rare person who wants to hear what they don't want to hear."
it depends on why and how long you're waiting.
They sit there trying to stay calm, distracted
and stare at the floor,
focusing on the ripped edge of a poster as many before have and many will again