June 2, 2015

The Secret of Hope. {Poem}


Can I tell you of a secret shared between you and me?

The worldly possessions, the career, the accolades

the things that can be bought and sold,

do not matter to us at all.

The negative energy from someone’s parting words has

no real power over our destiny.

The uncertain circumstances of an unsettling childhood

cannot deter us when it has lost its final stronghold,

its grip weakening

with each forward step.

For we are all wounded children

finding our way to loving parents

and somehow we’ll manage to find them, somewhere,

to fill the love-bare rooms inside.

Even within us they wait, arms wide open.

Without seeing,

without knowing,

we ache for something so vastly extraordinary

with every part of our being, silently weeping,

until our tears speak aloud

our greatest longing.

And like a desperate prayer of petition

we vow to make good

in exchange for that great need to be answered,

so the pain of this wanting

might be quelled and soothed.

Without seeing,

without knowing,

the secret is, more than anything, we want to give.

We want to live imparting hope, so it will never perish.

And because we carry hope alive within us

and offer it without cost,

we are so vastly extraordinary,

well beyond our greatest longings.


Author: Susan Frybort

Editor: Caroline Beaton

Photo: Flickr

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