Sometimes hope
is a windchilled breath
that stops and stares
through a thick, frozen fog,
saying
yes
life is harsh
but here
is the air.
Sometimes hope
is the black muddy slush
on a salty sea of pavement,
saying
yes
life is messy
but here
is the sun.
Sometimes hope
is a nine-dollar chunk
of European sheep cheese,
saying
yes
you can live without,
but you don’t always have to.
Sometimes hope
is a voice in a book
from a world far away,
saying
yes
that is true,
but so, also,
is this.
Sometimes hope
is the one loose thread
on a puppy’s toy
that’s relentlessly gnawed
to the neglect of all else
on a desperate,
dogged,
tenacious
pursuit
to release
whatever may lie
just beyond that thread.
Sometimes hope
is a bird that has flown
to a far-distant land—
a land that is filled
with the all the lovely things
you’ve been hoping for—
saying
yes
I am here and
no
I’m not there
in this very moment
on this very day
but
I will be back.
I always
come back.
___
Here’s to hope, friends. May yours always come back. xo
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