Waiting It Out - Sept 9 2026

 

Waiting It Out

Sept 9 2026



The power is out.

I sit in the dark

as the temperature cools

waiting it out,

a state of powerlessness

that feels familiar.

Because when you’re one of 7 billion

or however many billions now fill the earth,

it’s hard to have your say

let alone 

leave a mark.

Electricity enters

through a narrow cable

buried under the yard,

steady, silent, invisible. 

So I don’t even know

what power looks like

or from where it comes.

It’s just there, as it’s always been

in my short privileged life

of unearned comfort; 

power, a mystery

to the uninitiated.

At the end of the month

a bill will come

through electronic mail.

And, like my taxes, I’ll pay up.

What choice do I have?

Meanwhile, I wait.

A tree fell

somewhere up the line 

in what some would call an act of God.

Just like all the acts I wearily bear,

either hoping for the best

or shrugging my shoulders

in helpless resignation.

Just like all the machinations

of capricious fate

no influence pedlar or bagman

warlord or kleptocrat

or captain of industry

is protected from,

no politician

 — no matter how dirty or clean,

upright

or shamelessly pandering —

is big enough

to overpower.

Just a stream of consciousness thing. It found its own shape and ending, while I did nothing more than take dictation. Just hope it ended up making sense. 

I have a generator and it’s not winter, so actually there’s plenty of light, as well as air conditioned comfort. …But this is creative writing , not autobiography!

(Turns out, a short outage. Power returned just as I was deciding on a title.)