In the darkest night, a flicker bright,
Hope, a beacon, guiding light.
Through shadows deep, it softly gleams,
A whispered promise in silent dreams.
In times of trial, when all seems lost,
Hope whispers softly, no matter the cost.
It sings a melody of resilience and grace,
A steady rhythm in life's chaotic pace.
When storms rage and skies turn gray,
Hope paints rainbows to light the way.
It's the gentle breeze that calms the soul,
A lifeline when the seas are rough and cold.
In the depths of despair, it takes flight,
A soaring eagle against the black of night.
It lifts us up on wings of faith,
Reminding us it's never too late.
Hope is the seed in the barren ground,
The first green shoot that dares to abound.
It blooms in hearts where despair once reigned,
A flower of courage that cannot be chained.
Through valleys low and mountains high,
Hope whispers, "You can touch the sky."
It's the fire that burns in every heart,
A beacon of light that will never depart.
So let us hold onto Hope's gentle hand,
And journey forth across the land.
For in its embrace, we find our way,
Guided by Hope, come what may.
About the Creator
Spectating
I can't imagine dying like this, in a place like this; on a cold, dirty pavement with rush hour traffic screaming by and a crowd looking on while paramedics struggle to find space to move. Who could? Deep down we all think there should be a reason, a moment of clarity... or a family presence, at least. For this man, this boy, the rail thin woman lighting a cigarette in a faux fur jacket will have to do - she's been here since the start, her eyes tracking the movement of my shoulders as we fight to keep him on the right side of the line.
By S. A. Crawford4 days ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
This was so uplifting and optimistic! Loved your poem!