Waiting at Basecamp
The fire burns low as the hours creep by,
Under a quiet, star-splintered sky.
We sit in the stillness, hearts gripped tight,
Waiting for signs in the deepening night.
Each breath is a prayer, each glance at the clock,
Wondering when we'll hear that knock.
They're out in the wild, where danger roams free,
And we're here at basecamp, as still as can be.
The radio crackles, then fades back to quiet,
Our nerves dance on edge, but we can't incite it.
We know their strength, their skill, their fight,
But the worry still lingers through the endless night.
The wind carries whispers from mountains afar,
And every rustle feels like a scar.
But we hold onto hope, keep fear in its place,
Clinging to faith in this waiting space.
The coffee grows cold, the minutes stretch thin,
But no matter how long, we'll keep holding in.
For we are the tether to those who roam,
Anchoring the mission until they come home.
Our hearts are with them, through forest and storm,
In every shadow that shifts, in every form.
We wait in the silence, we stand in the prayer,
For the ones on the line, we're always there.
And when they return, weary but whole,
We'll breathe out the weight, let go of the toll.
For waiting at basecamp is the hardest part,
But we'll always be here, with love in our heart.
YOU ARE READING
Whispers of the Soul
PuisiIn "Whispers of the Soul," the poet invites readers on an intimate journey through the intricacies of human emotion and experience. This collection captures the delicate balance of joy and sorrow, love and loss, solitude and connection. Each poem se...
