Martin Wroe
1 min readDec 24, 2019

A Waiting Prayer (at Christmas)

To tune into that frequency, where angels sing,
Or receive some second sight, which observes
The divine hallucination, and isn’t surprised.
Looking up, like shepherds. Like stargazers.
For love to come down.

On a decision. (What’s next?)
A sign, a clue, a star that tries to move.
For love.
To know we are loved, or how to love.
For life. Or with loss,
In the thickening dusk of death.
All of us,
in the middle of this everything
that arranges itself into a life.
For love to come down.

Some of us have waited too long
That star we followed misled us
We wait in dismal streets,
Above which shine no everlasting light.
Too long, waiting, for Love to appear.
Too long, wondering, who Love might be.

Waiting. All of us.
To find ourselves with some bright lamp
to hold, against the great night sky of all these days

Waiting for Love to come down.
As Love waits for us, to rise up


Martin Wroe

‘Trying to get to heaven before they close the door.’