We are watching for his coming but the world – it seems – is not.

We are listening for his footsteps,

            while the hubbub of voices and clatter,

            traffic and leisure carries on.

That makes us sound too devout, too good, too above the everyday menial things that consume us.

But we are not.

Believe me, we are not.

Just that we have awakened to the dawn

And know that at some hour

The man of resurrection will appear.

The one who will save us

Is nearer than our touching.