Waiting Rooms

I had a dream that I sat in the waiting room
Of a doctor’s office under fluorescent lights
With all sorts of sick people of every age
Who coughed and sneezed and fevered.
Some who came in sat in a different room,
Still waiting like we were but with bored, 
Frowning faces as they expected to be called
Back to see the physician. That room was
Labeled: Well.

I glanced around at the miserable souls 
And watched their eyes light up when 
Their names were called and they passed
Through to door that led to hope and healing.
The people in the other room glanced at
Watches and seemed only to shrug and stand
When a nurse would call out their name, 
And they looked with a shake of their head 
At the room where I sat with illness abounding
Labeled: Sick

Only there aren’t two waiting rooms for the Kingdom
And there aren’t two types of Churches
So I have no idea where the “Well” room leads
But I can guarantee the Great Physician isn’t there